#obikin ficlet
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Don't mind me, I'm just having thoughts about OWK and wondering what would've happened if Obi-Wan hadn't lit his lightsaber...
With a half dozen steps between them, Vader stops. He pulls back his shoulders, straightening his spine, relishing in the fact that he was much taller now.
“Have you come to destroy me, Obi-Wan?”
His old Master unclips the lightsaber from his belt and studies him, eyes unblinking as they scan him head to toe and back up to the expressionless black mask.
He doesn’t wait for a response. Vader ignites his meticulously constructed lightsaber, the red blade casting a crimson glow on them.
Ripples of anger, seething with the need for revenge, swirl around Vader. Then, he feels a familiar touch, a gentle poke at the scab where their bond used to be. It’s tentative. Questioning. A hint of disbelief.
Is it really you?
“Does that suit keep you warm?”
There isn’t in any malice. It’s not a taunt. He isn’t ridiculing the chamber that serves as Vader’s life support.
The violence swirling in the Force comes to a stand still.
“What?” Vader barks.
“You always found space to be too cold,” Obi-Wan says gently, a wistful expression on his aged features.
His voice is full of genuine concern and it washes over Vader, wrapping around him like the warmth of his Master’s Jedi robe whenever he shivered as they traveled through hyperspace.
“What are you doing?” Vader demands and points his blade at Obi-Wan. “Is this a game to you?”
But he’s unable to stop the way his heart stirs at the memory of Obi-Wan’s hands arranging the robe over his shoulders. Fixing the collar so that it fit snugly around Anakin’s neck to keep out the cool draft. Smiling at him fondly as his eyes crinkled at the corners.
Those same eyes stared back at him now, brimming with unshed tears.
“Anakin,” he breathes, broken and hurt. Guilt rolling off him. “I’m sorry, Anakin. For all of it.”
With bitter resentment, Vader realizes how that voice still has a grip around his heart. He’s lost count of how many times he’s had to stop himself from allowing these types of feelings from invading his consciousness. Overwhelmed with sentimentality and yearning for a happiness that was in the past and forever out of reach, he’d respond to those thoughts with rage and anger, letting it fester, and allowed it fuel his hate.
Vader tries to summon that rage now, but his breath shakes with his lack of conviction. He reaches again, and the hate slips away from him.
“Your beard is unkempt,” Vader says.
A tear rolls down Obi-Wan’s face.
The last time Anakin saw him cry was on the first year anniversary after Qui-Gon’s death. His Master was sitting in his meditation pose on the floor, bathed in the sunlight that poured into their shared quarters. In his hands, Obi-Wan cradled his river stone, unaware that Anakin was behind him watching and listening silently while his Master humbly asked for strength. For clarity. For assurance that he was worthy of the responsibility to train Anakin. When Obi-Wan had finally turned and saw his Padawan, he’d swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand and smiled before suggesting that they get pancakes at Dex’s.
“Look at you. Do you wear socks?,” Obi-Wan retorts. “I bet if you do, you’re still leaving them balled up on the floor, waiting for someone to pick up after you.”
At that—at the sheer audacity and gall that only Obi-Wan was capable of—Vader chuckles and it comes out a like wheeze. The sound is foreign. When was the last time he laughed?
“You’re pathetic, old man.” There’s a bite to his tone, but he extinguishes his Sith blade and watches as Obi-Wan clips his own lightsaber onto his belt.
Something tugs at Anakin, at his heart, at the tattered remnants of their bond. It pulls at him, beckoning him to surrender to the comfort and safety of a long-lost brown robe.
It’s a trick, he thinks. A distraction. A trap.
“You’re one to talk,” Obi-Wan scoffs with a sniffle.
They stand in silence as their Force signatures wrap around each other, golden waves twining and hugging.
Finally, Anakin lets go. His sob is a distorted, staticky grunt.
“Where will we go?” he asks.
“I haven’t the slightest clue,” Obi-Wan confesses and extends his hand.
With a gasp, Anakin reaches for it and clings to the hope blooming in his chest for the first time in a decade.
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oooh abba lyrics? Love that! #47 there was something in the air that night with Obikin 💖
ABBA song lyric prompts
Hello there! Coming at you with a quiet post battle celebration (look at me trying out these snippets in the gffa!) apparently I have no idea how to keep these things short. I hope you enjoy! 💕
The battle had dragged on and on. Grueling days and sleepless nights blended together into an indistinguishable blur of advance-fight-retreat-regroup. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
But then when weariness had taken hold, the exhaustion so deep it was hard to remember feeling any different, to think back to a time that wasn’t filled with the constant chaos and injury and destruction of war, the tide had shifted.
The 212th had broken through the blockade and met up with the 501st and together they were able to accomplish what they hadn’t been able to apart. By the time the sun had set they had driven the Separatist forces away and reclaimed the base.
There was something in the air that night, in the simple celebration that took place under the night sky. The clouds of acrid smoke had cleared and the stars were visible once more. Fires burned late into the night, far past when exhausted men should have been awake. Yet all around figures stayed close, pressed together and voices low, unwilling to part. Not when it had been so uncertain who would be left among the living when daylight broke once more.
The Generals were among those lingering. Kenobi looked as though he hadn’t slept in years and it was a real possibility that the only reason he remained seated in the warm glow of the fire was that he couldn’t find the energy to rise. Skywalker’s shoulder leaned against his side so they were effectively propping each other up; by all rights they should have collapsed long before.
Cody and Rex exchanged a knowing look and subtle nods after they’d fallen silent for an extended period, glazed eyes staring into the flames, their faces as blank as though they were deep in meditation - or else sleeping with their eyes open which, to the commander's knowledge, was a skill neither had yet achieve. Not for lack of trying.
“Generals,” Cody addressed them as he stood, holding his helmet under his arm in the loosest attention he was capable of. “We’re going to check in with the men one last time before we turn in.”
“Yes, of course, Commander.” Obi-Wan began the seemingly monumental process of shifting to rise but was stopped by a firm hand on his shoulder.
“General Kenobi, sir. If I might be frank,” Cody paused.
“Go on.”
“It’s an honor to serve with you. Not all the troops are so lucky. Not all of the generals are there in the front lines with their men. Not all care whether their men live or die, see them as more than numbers.” Obi-Wan started to respond but his commander uncharacteristically talked over him. “BUT the battle is over now. You two should get some rest.” He nodded to them both before walking away brusquely.
“Neither of you are good to anybody dead,” Rex stated more curtly. “And it’s senseless to survive all of that,” he jerked his chin toward the battlefield, “just to die of exhaustion.”
“Understood, Captain,” Anakin dismissed him with a nod and a crooked smile. “What’s gotten into everybody,” he questioned wryly as the clone saluted and took his leave. “It’s like there was a truth serum in that ale - and it was about as weak as water. Even I’m not feeling anything, but everyone else has been sentimental.
“It’s not anything to do with the liquor, lightweight,” Obi-Wan lightly nudged his elbow into the younger man’s side. “I’m not sure how it looked on your side of things but on ours…it was pretty bleak,” Obi-Wan admitted. “We didn’t expect to break through. Most of the men were prepared that this battle would be their last. Staring down the reality that we might lose was eye opening.” He gave a deep exhale and then cleared his throat before adding on, “or so I would imagine.”
Anakin snorted. “Right.”
“What?”
“Just say it.”
“What? I have no energy left for guessing games.”
“You thought you were going to die,” Anakin’s voice broke at the end. “I did! I’m not ashamed to admit it. Why can’t you acknowledge your feelings, even if you did accept it like the perfect Jedi that you are?”
“Perfect Jedi,” Obi-Wan muttered under his breath. “You can’t be serious.”
The flickering light of the fire threw deep shadows over Anakin’s face, the dark angles rendering it unreadable as he awkwardly turned, still half pressed against the older man’s side, in an effort to look directly into the other’s eyes.
“Yes! Dammit Obi-Wan! I was afraid, alright? I was so afraid. Every hour, every minute, that I couldn’t get to you was an eternity. I knew how bad it was and if I didn’t get there in time you were going to die. I was going to break through and it was going to be too late.”
“Anakin.” The fire reflected in Obi-Wan’s eyes, flames dancing in the shadowy depths of his emotions. “I didn’t accept it.” He turned and they slid together, foreheads touching, looking directly into each other’s eyes. “I didn’t accept that it might be my time. I rejected it with every fiber of my being. I had to make it to you. Anything else was unacceptable.”
Long lashes blinked back at him, plush lips open but silent as the younger man attempted to assimilate the statements into his worldview. They didn’t match the one constant in the universe he could count on: Obi-Wan Kenobi.
“Besides,” Obi-Wan continued, “I knew it couldn’t be my time. Not yet.”
“Why not?” Anakin asked the easiest question of the many all racing through his mind, despite the protests of his dry throat.
“I’m just certain that when I go, it will be with you by my side.”
Obi-Wan’s lips twisted into a sad smile, and Anakin found he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight. He’s never spent so long looking at his master’s lips. Not when they’d passed on patient lessons or the biting words of frustrated rebukes and lectures. Not when they’d planned shared trust and crafted battle plans. Now, chapped and rough and barely visible in the low light of the dying fire, he couldn’t have looked away if he’d tried.
As focused as he was, he didn't miss those lips coming closer to his own — although he couldn’t have said for certain who was responsible for moving them together. All he knew was that when they finally met in a soft kiss he felt a peace unlike anything he had ever known. Obi-Wan drew back and for a long time simply stared into his eyes, searching for answers to the question only he knew the details of. Finally found what he was looking for, bringing their lips together once more and finding they fit together like they were two halves of a whole.
“I’m really, very glad you’re here with me tonight,” Obi-Wan eventually admitted shakily into the breath of space between them.
“Me too.” Anakin closed the space once more, seeking the warmth and reassurance of the other’s presence as the embers died down and darkness grew. The stars were shining above, seemingly only for the two of them to see, and they were both there to see it. Together.
#your pal is big and brave and taking prompts#inspired by the song Fernando#Abbs song lyric prompts#prompt fill#obikin ficlet#obikin
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Baby Vampkin + Human Daddy-Wan, short ficlet
Anakin was dying.
Well, okay, he wasn’t actually. Anakin was technically already dead, but just because one didn’t have a pulse - or breath, or body heat, or any of those other things that otherwise non-undead human beings had - didn’t mean one couldn’t suffer. Especially when someone cunning, someone cruel, knew exactly how to make them.
He had made Obi-Wan his favorite dinner - no mean a feat as Anakin could technically eat but had no taste buds - and set himself up nicely by the fire, not too close to become dangerous but just enough to warm his perpetually cold skin the way he knew his human liked. He had wrapped himself in his softest silk robe, the one he knew Obi-Wan preferred for the way the deep blue color played against his bronze skin and golden eyes, and let it gape open at the top to show off his collarbones.
Obi-Wan looked delicious. He arrived home late - midterms were always a very busy time of year for Coruscant University’s favorite Classics professor - but he had seemed pleased to see Anakin, welcoming him into his house and accepting his kisses. His wrinkles, so obvious to Anakin with his keen senses, stood out more and more lately, but they did absolutely nothing to disguise his beauty. He was perhaps the most gorgeous man Anakin had ever seen, no matter how old he was for a human. No matter how much older Anakin was than him, technically.
Anakin had a plan to address all that anyway, someday soon. But there were more important things to attend to now.
His eyes latched onto the exposed skin at Obi-Wan’s wrists where his sweater rode up. He reached out gently, his undead heart giving a soft phantom skip, bringing one of those dear hands to his face, inhaling the smells of Obi-Wan: paper and ink and more tea and underneath all that, that heady scent that was simply him. His fangs were growing longer with anticipation, venom pooling at their tips. His eyes were glowing, he could tell, and everything around him took on the sharp tinge of high definition. Of anticipation.
But just as he was about to bite down, Obi-Wan turned his hand over, blocking him. He cupped Anakin’s cheek, withdrawing and settled back against the couch.
“But I’ve been good,” Anakin said (whined).
“Hmm?” Obi-Wan seemed distracted, starting into Anakin’s face. Anakin wasn’t using glamour on him - he wasn’t - but sometimes the way Obi-Wan looked at him made him wonder if perhaps he wasn’t doing it on accident. “Yes, I suppose you have.”
Obi-Wan held Anakin’s eyes. He looked so regal, like a king from Anakin’s past, lounging before his subjects, a god before a supplicant.
His mouth ticked up in a smile.
“And because you have been so good for me, I’ve been good for you too,” he said leadingly.
Anakin’s nostrils flared. Obi-Wan’s grin was as sharp as Anakin’s teeth.
He could smell it now, the warmth of the fire heating Obi-Wan up from the inside out, the spicy-sweet scent of his blood filling the room, so thick to Anakin’s nose it he was almost choking. It was iron rich, the kind that came from supplements and the kind of foods Obi-Wan didn’t like to eat, normally, but knew made his blood taste that much juicier, that much richer, when he did.
Anakin growled, just a bit. “You really?”
Obi-Wan nodded. “Come here.”
Anakin went where he was bidden, helpless, Obi-Wan cupping the back of his head and bringing his face to his neck.
Anakin inhaled sharply. This was dangerous. This was tempting - too tempting. Anakin opened his mouth, running his tongue over Obi-Wan’s skin, tasting salt and feeling a dark satisfaction at how he shuddered.
“Go ahead, darling,” Obi-Wan whispered. His fingers tightened in Anakin’s hair, and his heartbeat was like a war drum, letting out the faintest of breathy moans as Anakin’s fangs pressed down.
“Make me feel it.”
#obikin#obikin ficlet#vampire au#vampire anakin#human obi-wan#obi wan kenobi#anakin skywalker#star wars au#my ficlet
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Hello Love
Anakin stared at the innocuous words, and then stared some more. He blinked, rubbed durasteel fingers into his eye sockets, and blinked spots from his vision, but the words stayed.
Rex cleared his throat. “Something wrong, sir? General Kenobi said it wasn’t urgent.”
Anakin stared at the flimsiplast sheet death gripped in his sweaty, flesh hand. There was still mud and blood caked under his nails that needed trimmed. If Obi-Wan were here they would be cleaned already from the sheer amount of bitching he’d take if he didn’t. But Obi-Wan wasn’t here, he was halfway across the galaxy scraping blood from under his nails from his own planetary sieges. Halfway across the galaxy and sending flimsiplast letters addressed hello love like something out of a holofilm.
Vague and incredulous worry crept up the back of his mind. “Has something happened?” He demanded. “Is the General and the 212th alright?”
Rex shifted and adjusted the helmet balanced against his hip. “As best I know, sir.”
Hello love
He could barely look at the familiar slant of Obi-Wan’s scrawl without pleased heat bubbling up in his chest like a bottle of uncorked champagne. The words didn’t make sense, bewildered him really, but that didn’t stop the euphoric, giddy blush from rising up his throat and burning his ears florid and red.
He wanted to gasp around the bright shock of it, how viscerally it suffused every atom of him with flustered happiness. But that didn’t make the flimsiplast make any more damn sense.
He called Obi-Wan on his comm, half expecting the sounds of blaster fire or screams to answer. But Obi-Wan merely answered with a smooth, “Hello Anakin.”
“Master,” he muttered unsurely, leaving Rex on the bridge. “What’s going on?”
“What’s wrong?” Obi-Wan clipped back, immediately on the alert.
“The flimsiplast you sent,” Anakin said helplessly.
“Oh did Rex deliver it? It’s something tech has been working on, works shockingly fast on an intergalactic scale, carries a signal where coms drop. Keep the sheet on you, it will transcribe handwritten notes between us in real time, even if radio signal cannot pass atmosphere.”
“Oh,” he answered faintly. “Wizard.” That didn’t really address his real question, but Obi-Wan quickly shifted the topic to more important matters at hand. More important than Anakin’s scrambled, flustered brain.
Days passed, then weeks, and while the flimsiplast note did not leave his thoughts, other worries pressed in, sieges, assaults, planet-side entrenchment. The war had lasted long enough that sometimes he found memories from before difficult to recall. Especially when assaults dragged weeks at a time, so that only the screams of dying men and the stench of ion fire kept his exhausted, frenetic thoughts company.
One such assault found him flat on his stomach in a trench full of orange water and empty trooper helmets. Ion cannons lit the violet sky vermillion overhead, a constant rumbling barrage that shook him to his bones. He dug gloved fingers into the mud and pressed his face to his forearm and felt that even the force had forsaken them here.
The Seps had been quick to cut their communications, and then their supplies. It was just a quarter of his regiment here, marooned on this force forsaken rock with no way to call for aid. Two days prior they managed to separate him from his men and at any movement in the trenches they rained blaster fire down that gouged the earth and left smoking holes in their wake.
So he crawled through the mud and rested where he could, searching for his men amongst the wreckage and artillery fire. Violet darkened to a wine dark stain and under the rumblings of ion only the sound of breathing filled the silence of his foxhole, until his belt beeped.
He startled and then scrambled for the sound, wondering how his comm had broken through the communications block. But it wasn’t his comm, he pulled the rolled up flimsi from his belt and it unfurled with a faint, backlit glow.
Anakin—hold fast—we are coming
He sobbed with relief and then snarled at his own weakness, angry at the burn of tears he fought.
Can’t hold long, he wrote. Badly outnumbered and caught in entrenchment under ion cannons. All comms & supplies blocked. Casualties High.
I know. He watched Obi-Wan jot out the words letter by letter, quick and unusually messy.
Just hold on, love, we’re coming.
He gripped the flimsi with whitened knuckles and felt as if he could tear an ion cannon in two with his bare hands. He had never—Obi-Wan had never—
Anakin knew he lit up like a sun when Obi-Wan called him his padawan—his friend—his anything. Obi-Wan wasn’t stupid, he knew how easily Anakin bloomed with embarrassing satisfaction at such simple address. But his master had never—
He shoved the flimsi under his surcoat and gritted his teeth under the flashes of cannon bolts and fought through the mud, fire crackling in his chest with renewed fight. Hours passed and lightning joined the vermillion bolts to flash across the darkened sky. Rain washed sideways through the trenches in icy sheets and he drug one of his unconscious men by the shoulder pauldron and yowled in frustration every time his boots slipped in the mud.
A beep trilled from under his surcoat and he flopped back in the mud with a squelch to take ragged gasps as he yanked out the flimsi.
Keep holding on love.
He sobbed and pushed it back against his breastbone. Hours blurred by one after the other in nothing but a slow bleed of agony and terror and rain lit by ion and ozone. Only the steady beep of the flimsi carried him through, with Obi-Wan’s messy scrawl to remind of the fight still inside him.
Keep fighting love.
I’m coming love.
Don’t give up, my love, the last one read. He could barely make out the words from the blur of rain in his eyes and the agonizing burn of his own exhaustion. He felt only half coherent dragging trooper’s passed out bodies to cover, one after the other, one foot in front of the other.
And finally, finally with the break of dawn a strong and familiar hand grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him to stand in the mud.
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, eyes wide and piercing. “I’m here—I’m here.”
Anakin sagged against his chest, every string of the force keeping him on his feet suddenly cut. “Master,” he slurred, “I didn’t give up—I kept—I kept fighting like you told me.”
Obi-Wan caught him and they both collapsed to the ground, grass here, wherever they were, finally beyond the mud of the trenches.
“I know,” Obi-Wan said, a sharp edge to his voice though Anakin felt too foggy headed to decipher it. “I know, love, I’m here.”
#first thing I’ve been able to string together since my brains got liquified hooray!!!!#omg actual words guys#obikin#obikin ficlet#ficlet#star wars#obi wan kenobi#anakin skywalker#angst yet fluff…somehow#my fanfic stuff
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Anakin was looking forward to sleeping in his bed. Or Obi-Wan's bed. He was so exhausted it didn't really matter at this point -- he just wanted to sleep. His report to the Council thankfully took less time than he had expected, which was helped a bit by the absence of about half the members. Most notably, Obi-Wan himself. Anakin couldn't remember Obi-Wan saying he was going to be off-world when he returned, and it was very unlike him to miss a meeting if he was in the Temple.
Maybe he was at Dex's. Or maybe he had an errand somewhere else on Coruscant.
Or maybe sick or injured in the Halls of Healing. But surely the Council would have mention--
Anakin was pulled from his spiraling thoughts when a hand reached out and grabbed the voluminous sleeve of his brown cloak, pulling him behind one of the large marble columns in the Temple's great hall. Before he even knew what was happening, a pair of warm, chapped lips were being pressed against his, soft hair tickling his upper lip.
Obi-Wan pulled back, a small grin on his face and a twinkle in his blue eyes. Anakin couldn't help but return the grin.
"Master! What--"
"Hello there," he replied quietly, cupping Anakin's face in his large hands and nuzzling his cheek.
Anakin's eyes darted back and forth, looking for any fellow Jedi. It was a huge -- and surprising -- risk for Obi-Wan to take. "But master, anyone can see out here."
Obi-Wan kissed him again, then backed away reluctantly. "Yes, you're right." He straightened Anakin's cloak then his own tunic.
"What's gotten into you, Obi-Wan?" Anakin asked. He was hesitant to ask in case Obi-Wan suddenly closed himself off out of shame or guilt.
"I just missed you, that's all." He smiled, eyes softening at the corners.
If it hadn't been for the pair of younglings who walked by just then, he would have grabbed Obi-Wan himself and kissed those wrinkles he loved so well.
"I missed you, too," he smiled.
"But I'm sure you're tired," Obi-Wan said, putting a hand on Anakin's elbow to lead him away. "You can come sleep in my bed, undisturbed. I just have some reports to write up which I can do in the living area."
Sleep sounded nice, but Obi-Wan always sounded nicer. "Maybe you can disturb me a little bit... then work on your reports."
Obi-Wan chuckled as he walked faster, "Well, then we must not waste any more time."
#obikin#ficlet#my writing#fanfic#is it canon or canon divergent? who knows#just enjoy a little fluffy fluff
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Shower Prompt
Anakin came back late.
It had been a month since his Knighting ceremony, but this was not his first time leading a battalion. He'd been Knighted because it wasn't his first time, but because he was one of the youngest in the order to. Many years before him, and, the war proceeded at planned years after him, the Jedi would be peacekeepers. A Padawan would rise in their ranks thanks to their emotional maturity, connection to the Force, their steady and unyielding compassion in the face of darkness.
During war, the Order needed warriors. If there was something Anakin excelled at, then it was his speed with which he cut down his enemies. The 501st third independent battle hadn't been that.
Anakin came back to the ship with his hair matted to his skull with blood. There was a gash that he'd failed to notice bleeding sluggishly down his cheek, along his neck, to pool and crust at his clavicle. His boots drag against the metal plating of the ship, and as if the staff on board knew what had happened, they didn't say. They parted.
Until today, General Skywalker boasted the fact his numbers hadn't been shaken since he'd taken command. Until today, the 501st were 580 strong.
Today, they'd lost twenty, in one fatal swoop of a Separatist tank bombing ambush. Half of the men who'd been killed were asleep.
The doors of the Jedi's bunk room opened with a hiss, Anakin's shadow darkening the doorway until they close behind him. The Knight paused long enough to make sure the doors were closed, and then kicked his boots off, and flung his saber from his belt in a fit of rage across the room. It stopped in midair--seconds from colliding with the ships metal walls.
And then it lowered, gentle, to rest horizontally on his pillow. "Those are quite expensive to fix, Padawan mine."
"I'm not your Padawan anymore, Obi-Wan," Anakin spoke to the dark. In the dim light from Nithe's largest moon, his former Master reclined easy against the nightstand beside Anakin's cot, his arms crossed. The moon lit up his face, but the Jedi didn't look for long. He didn't think he could stand the pity he'd find there.
If it had been any other person, the Knight might have had the decency to be embarrassed at being caught like this--bloody and angry at the galaxy with all it's inhabitants.
"What do you want?" he asked, tired. "Not today. I don't want to hear it. I don't want to talk battle, or strategies, and I don't want to meditate."
Obi-Wan laughed, and pushed himself up and off of the wall.
"Then I suppose we'll do none of that. I didn't come here to antagonize you, Anakin." He approached, slow and measured, until the Knight could feel the warmth radiating from his body. Obi-Wan had dressed down, clad in night clothes like he'd woken up for this.
"I came to make sure that you were alright, and found you still bloody," the Jedi murmured, tilting his head, guiding Anakin's gaze until their eyes met.
There was a pause, before the Knight sagged against him. It was all the excuse he'd needed.
Obi-Wan undressed him methodically, as methodical as if he were undressing with the intent to bandage. His hands were rough with callouses, and there was a faint scar running along his palm that when the ridge caught Anakin's skin made him shiver. Anakin sat on the bed, let the Jedi shrug him from his robes, hissed when his hands scraped a fresh wound. The older man caught his chin and tilted it to the side, assessing his face. Anakin let himself be guided. Obi-Wan didn't chide him staring.
They didn't speak, and that was it for Anakin, who's words left his lips in a clumsy tumble. As a kid, he'd envied his Master for his silver tongue. He'd hated his lessons, hated the mockery that came with the struggle, until Obi-Wan gathered Anakin's messy and fumbled words in his palm of his hands. The Jedi completed him in a way that made Anakin realize he hadn't been whole.
"Gently," the man said. The fresher was running, the Knight bare, goosebumps raising on his skin from the chill. "Slow down. For once in your life, Anakin, go slowly."
They lowered him into the bath carefully, the brunette wincing as the heat seared his skin and then made itself at home in his bones. Obi-Wan looked ridiculous and uncomfortable, still clothed and dry, kneeling next to the bath with his sleeves rolled. This was testament to everything in their relationship--Obi-Wan's composure a stark contrast to Anakin's rougher edges. The Knight felt small and pitiful, and the sentiment rose the air on his neck, made him bear his teeth and hiss as the water splash at his skin.
Obi-Wan's palm came down, smoothing over his nape, and Anakin felt his the tension drain from his bones.
"Close your eyes, dear," his voice was steady. The Knight obeyed, eyes slipping closed.
And he didn't deserve this. His eyelids were stained with the images of the lost, the scenarios of what he could've done, what he didn't do, and what he'd failed to do replaying in his mind's eye like a broken record. It was marred, it was ugly, it was entirely preventable--and Anakin let death write their names across the surface of his heart like it could prevent them from being forgotten. One day, he'd hoped, it would be a worthy death to suffocate under their weight. One day, he'd put an end to it all.
If Obi-Wan had noticed--and Anakin's shields were abhorrent--he didn't say anything. The Master's hands slipped through Anakin's curls, nails dragging across his scalp, fingers tugging the mats loose carefully until he could massage the soap into a steady sud. The room heated, the Jedi's movements as methodical as the working of a clock, and all the anger Anakin had stored in his chest throughout the day melted away as easy as the soap in his hair.
Obi-Wan's presence was warm. It was all encompassing. It was the closest thing to home Anakin had left. The Knight let his shields fall until their signatures could touch and meld, his former Master's Force curling around his own like a cat demanding a scratch. It settled against the barrel of Anakin's chest, and he savored the way Obi-Wan always made it so difficult for him to breathe.
The Jedi's hands hadn't stopped moving. A groan slipped from Anakin's mouth, and a flick of water splashed against Obi-Wan's nose when he laughed.
Water spilled over his head--crept through his curls, heat spreading across his scalp. Obi-Wan repeated the motion until he was clean, until the water bled pink with tendrils of blood.
"They missed a spot on your chest," Obi-Wan commented. His fingers moved through Anakin's hair, shamelessly petting, winding a wet curl around his finger until it bounced free. The Jedi turned to look up at him.
Obi-Wan's features were soft, in the yellow light. The curve of his cheek was inviting, the hard edges of General being replaced with the man Anakin called home, and when the light hit his hair right it seemed to turn gold.
"Don't wanna get your clothes wet," The Knight mumbled, eyes wandering. "You might get cold."
"It may be hard to believe, but the cruiser had a functioning washer and heater."
As if that was permission enough, Anakin hooked his fingers in the front of Obi-Wan's clothes, and drug him down far enough to kiss him. He got lost in the feeling of the man's mouth on his, in the way his beard rubbed his scar raw, in favor of cupping the back of Obi-Wan's neck and drinking him in deeper.
They kissed, slow, and easy. The water around him bled, and when his Master finally pulled away breathless, it matched the rosy tint of his lips.
"Anakin."
"Don't," he pleaded. "Please."
Obi-Wan sat, and thought, reaching into the Force and picking through all of the reasons why they shouldn't. There was danger written in the air. They were on the losing end of a war where biases could mean death to an entire galaxy. There was inevitable loss written in the stars that the Knight must learn to cope with--and not all of it would be due to death.
But denying Anakin was never something he cared to be good at. Obi-Wan washed his hand, callouses dragging against his scalp, until his Padawan fell asleep curled into the curve of his hand.
#obikin#anakin skywalker#obi wan kenobi#star wars#writing prompt#star wars prompts#ficlet#anaobi#bath time#the most uncreative title of all time#obikin fic#anakin x obi wan#anakin and obi wan#i dont know how to use tumblr wtf#theyre in love in every universe to some degree and if u dont like that then heres the door
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Little hurt/comfort ficlet based on this beautiful piece
The dust is settling but there is still smoke, the acrid smell of tanks burning and droids slashed to bits or shot down by blasters. Obi-Wan’s throat hurts from breathing it in for hours, until the droids stopped coming and the ground forces retreated and all the world is strange and still. Too quiet.
Obi-Wan has a headache and he would like to blame it on that, the smoke inhalation. But he has been on his feet for hours, making little headway, holding himself and his men together. His armor is covered in dust and dirt, flecked here and there with blood and machine grease. The blood might be his own, at least a little bit. He thinks he has a cut on his forehead and a tear in his tunic near the sleeve but there has been no time to return to medical. There has been no time at all. The world was metal and smoke and his blade in front of him. And now it is so, so quiet.
“Hey, are you alright?” Obi-Wan looks up and suddenly Anakin is there in front of him, grasping his arm and holding him in place, warm and solid and real. Adrenaline still coursing through him, Obi-Wan flinches back from the touch before settling. He can stop now, Anakin is here.
The only reason the battle ended as soon as it did was because the 501st was close enough to swoop in as backup. The 212th was entrenched here for days, they fought this particular battle for hours. Without help, Obi-Wan might have had to surrender or retreat. Or die, which sometimes felt as though it would be only too easy.
Obi-Wan can’t bear to look at Anakin and so he looks down at their shoes, dusty and worn like the rest of them. Anakin holds him by the pauldron and presses their foreheads together.
“Are you alright?”
For perhaps the first time in hours, Obi-Wan closes his eyes. He nearly lets himself sink into the comfort of Anakin’s presence. The sheer relief and hope that the sight and feel of him brings is almost too much. He can’t let himself collapse, fall into the other man’s arms and let him bear his weight. He can’t cry or scream or fall to pieces, even though it would be so easy.
“Better now that you’re here,” Obi-Wan says, instead.
#obikin#aniobi#obi wan x anakin#anakin x obi wan#obi wan/anakin#my fic#i swear i'm working on longer stuff in addition to these#but the ficlets have been very fun as well
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“Anakin?” Obi-Wan asked tentatively, blade raised, stepping closer to Anakin, lying against the wall. There was blood, one of the seams on his head must have ripped. He brushed against his signature, checking if he was severely hurt — maybe a concussion? — and scrutinizing their bond.
What had happened?
Anakin groaned and sat up. His fingers found his head, feeling the soreness and coming away with some more blood. His eyes fixed on the lightsaber, threatening him.
“Are you going to kill me now, Obi-Wan?” He asked and he didn’t sound menacing anymore, but exhausted.
Obi-Wan stood silent for a beat longer, half expecting invisible hands around his throat — none came.
Slowly, he lowered his blade, without shutting it off.
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Dark academia au, you say? I didn't know you had a dark academia au 👁️👄👁️
um yes i absolutely do (she says, as if it's not one ficlet that occupies more of my mind than i want it to)
it's this ficlet!
basically scholarship kid anakin meets rich kid obi-wan at small expensive rich kid jedi college and they fall into something like love that probably isn't love or definitely isn't a healthy love cause obi-wan is just so sloppy fucked up in so many ways (which is why the alex law gif set i just reblogged made me think of it lol) and anakin spends half his time getting into shit with obi-wan and half his time trying to save obi-wan from himself and they're never in a proper relationship but that doesn't mean they don't fuck each other up for years and years
and eight years after they last talk anakin writes a book about jedi college and he changes everyone's names of course but obi-wan reads it and comes to see him and he's angry but also the chemistry between them is still electric and they fall into another relationship that anakin swears he doesn't love (even though he does) (because despite it all, obi-wan kenobi is the love of his life)
#asks#dark academia au#obikin#i actually just reread this ficlet lmao there are so many things i would fix if i could#but i do like the usage of passages from the book anakin writes#interspersed through the ficlet#and obi-wan reading it because he's an asshole#but anakin writing it because HE'S an asshole#no one is a good character in this fic#it's so nice
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I found myself with some extra time this afternoon and wrote a little Obikin ficlet inspired by @aberrantcreature's artwork that features Harpywan and Harpykin. It's G-rated. They're harpy eagles. They're cute and I love them.
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Ficlet in which Ahsoka wonders if anyone has a normal master and where she could find one
“So Ahsoka. What do your age-mates at the temple think about your new master?”
The Jedi Padawan looked suspiciously up at Master Kenobi after his question. She knew the Jedi Master well enough to know, evidenced by the mischievous twinkle in his eye, that he was angling for some new material to tease Master Skywalker with.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, there certainly must be something about being Padawan to the Chosen One. Anakin being so famous and quite easy on the eyes. According to the holonet, at least.”
“Actually, Master, they mostly ask questions about you.”
“Me? Really. What sort of questions?”
“I, um, I don’t think I should really say, Master.”
At that moment the door whished open, and Master Skywalker stalked into the room. He huffed and chucked several data pads irritably to the table.
“UGH, I hate these reports! So many reports all the time! There are other things that –” He paused and took in the tense silence. “Hey, what are you guys talking about?”
“It’s nothing, Anakin. Let us just –”
“Master Skywalker, Master Kenobi asked what my friends at the temple thought about me being your Padawan. But I said they only asked about him.”
“I KNOW, right??”
“Anakin –”
Master Skywalker leapt over the back of the couch that Obi-Wan was sitting on, and promptly flung his freakishly tall body onto the cushions, dislodging Master Kenobi’s data pad, and placing his head directly on his former Master’s lap.
“Really, Anakin!”
“I tell you, Snips, it was NEVER-ENDING! ‘Oh Padawan Skywalker, how can you stand living with beeeeeeyooootiful Obi-Wan Kenobi?! It is so unfair that you have the handsomest Master in the temple! Oh his eyes, so blue! His hair, so shiny! His robes, so neat! His skills so refined!’”
“Anakin –”
“’And oh, his arms are so muscular! His waist, so trim. Rock hard abs. At least we think so. Padawan Skywalker, do you ever see him with his shirt off?”
“Anakin!”
“And his legs, so strong. Very sexy boots. And that ass, a vision!”
“ANAKIN!”
“‘Indeed!’ said I, ‘This all describes my Master perfectly! But you are missing the most important thing’ ‘What?’ they say, like the witless fools that they are.
‘The most important thing that you must remember about Master Kenobi is that he is MINE, and I will END you PAINFULLY if you touch him.”
“…”
“… oh Anakin, my dearest boy. This is why you have no friends.”
Completely numb, Ahsoka picks up her study pads and bows stiffly. “I’m leaving now. Goodbye, Masters. Possibly forever.”
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“Hmmm,” Obi-Wan said, consideringly. “I’m afraid I don’t quite believe you, darling.”
Try again.
Anakin’s breath left him in a broken sob, a trembling exhale that shook outward from the center of his chest, ripping itself from his depths, his toes. He was on fire. He was burning up from the inside out, and Obi-Wan was being so mean, so cruel -
“Now now, Padawan-mine,” Obi-Wan soothed. He ran his fingers through Anakin’s hair, nails catching slightly on the sweaty strands that fell heavily into his face.
Anakin butted up against his hand, pleading.
He tried to whisper, but nothing would come out.
It hurt to talk, now. They’d been at this for what felt like hours, and Obi-Wan wouldn’t let Anakin touch him, not until he sang. He never clarified what song, exactly, he wanted to hear, but Anakin suspected it was something only Obi-Wan knew - some vibration in the Force that rang with the sound of his surrender, his submission.
Anakin had made plenty of noise as they played, tonight, but it was his third orgasm that had been wrung from him, screaming.
He didn’t think he had much more noise to give.
Obi-Wan, he tried again. The word floated along their bond, lighting it up like little fire bugs. Each one bursting was a shiver across his skin.
“You do ask so nicely,” Obi-Wan allowed. He brought his hand down across Anakin’s brow, his cheek. Anakin sucked in harshly as it trailed down to his jaw, cupping his chin and twisting his face upward and to the side.
Obi-Wan was so imposing like this. He was always resplendent. Regal, even. But now…
Towering over him - broad chest exposed, strong muscles glistening with sweat and sharply contrasted in the light - he was something else entirely. His eyes glittered dangerously, with that unique eagerness Anakin always associated with hidden depths and unexplored temptations. With joy, and the visceral satisfaction of a job well done.
Seeing that pleasure writ so clear on Obi-Wan’s otherwise impassive face was like a jolt to spine. It energized him, and Anakin shifted his knees on the cold ground, digging them in and arching his back further.
He licked his lips.
“Please.”
Obi-Wan grinned at him, and Anakin’s heart sped up.
He cleared his throat, putting everything he had - everything he felt - into the words. “Please, Master.”
Obi-Wan’s smile grew teeth, and Anakin knew he’d won.
[I blame the Obikin Discord server and yes Mean Dom Obi-Wan is a treasure 🔥]
#obikin#obi wan kenobi#anakin skywalker#mean dom obi-wan#d/s dynamic#spicy#obikin ficlet#subanakinfest
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HAPPY NEW YEAR -Ficlet
As I sit here, spending my NYE quietly and calmly in my pjs, I was overcome with a small idea and thus give to you a small NYE snippet, written in a hast, unbetaed, probably full of mistakes but from the heart.
May your New Year be whatever you want it to be. Above all, be kind to yourself <3 Much love - Eden
"Thank you, Cody, that will be all. I will make another round myself once midnight approaches. Go home and enjoy your evening."
"Thank you, Sir." Cody bowed at the waist, then cast one critical look around the stables. "I will have my phone on me at all times, should -"
"Thank you", Obi-Wan said with emphasis, then winked at his head stablemaster. "Same procedure as last year, hm?"
"Same procedure as every year, Sir."
The sound of Cody's retreating steps was soon swallowed by the low music playing in the stables. The horses were shuffling and snorting in their stalls, having just been given an extra portion of feed and so far, the occasional sound of bangs from distant rockets and other explosives did not seem to faze them much.
Obi-Wan walked along the length of the building once again, rubbing a hand along curious snouts peeking out of their boxes. Ben even left the trough to get his share of scritches behind his ears, returning the favor by gently nibbling at the shoulders of Obi-Wan's parker. Boga, on the other hand, was completely absorbed in a giant pile of hay.
Contented that, for the moment, all was well in the barn, Obi-Wan made his way back to the main house, stepping in through the mud room where he toed off his wellies, hung up his parker and cap. The mud room connected to the kitchens, where his cook was still in the process of making last minute preparations for dinner. She only nodded when his slipped through, forgoing protocol in favor of the meal. Obi-Wan appreciated it greatly.
From the kitchen, he took the backstairs up to his bedroom, rushing a little more when he took note of the time.
A quick shower and change later, he made it to the grand living room just in time to find his mother sit down in her favorite armchair by the burning fire, glancing up at him with a sternly raised eyebrow, which he ignored in favor of looking towards Anakin, whose smile widened visibly when he noticed Obi-Wan entering.
"There you are! We were making bets already, if Boga had eaten you." The young man rushed over, arms spread wide in a hug, but then stopped just short of embracing Obi-Wan, uncertainty flashing across his face. He still struggled with the social language of Obi-Wan's family.
"She made a valiant effort, but Cody was clever enough to distract her with frankly obscene amounts of hay so I was able to make a nimble escape." Obi-Wan leaned in and gently kissed Anakin's cheek, a hand coming up to squeeze the younger man's, then he quickly made his way around the room, greeting his mother, his brother Owen and sister-in-law, Miri, Ahsoka and Barriss and then his three young nieces, who were all excitedly telling him about their Christmas celebrations.
Their joyous explanations were soon interrupted by the dinner bell and they all filled over into the dining room, which was set up beautifully, flower arrangements worthy of a royal ball dominating the long table. By his side, Obi-Wan could feel Anakin hesitate for a moment as they entered the room and he quickly put a hand on the small of his back. "Darling?"
"It's just. Wow, I mean, I know this room but like, only with the two of us? And now it's like. It looks like a palace. And your whole family's here and what if I mess up? They'll hate me. I think your mother already does and -" Obi-Wan pulled Anakin towards him, holding him in a tight hug for a moment, and then kissed him squarely on the mouth, before leaning their foreheads together for a moment.
"Darling, this is just New Year's with my family. It's no audience with the King and Queen, it's not a test of any sorts. Relax, enjoy the food and just. Be yourself. You need not impress anyone."
Anakin, still looking skeptical, allowed himself to be maneuvered towards his chair, sitting on Obi-Wan's left, across from the Dowager Duchess, who gave them both an unreadable look, before turning her attention towards the food.
Obi-Wan pushed down a sigh and the focused on his own plate, determined to savor the meal and company.
"Uncle? Will you tell us the story of you and Papa almost burning down the barn that one year?", his oldest niece piped up when the main course was cleared away, making use of the distraction to escape censorship by her mother. Obi-Wan chuckled, glancing over to see Anakin and Ahsoka give him twin looks of horrified curiosity. Owen just buried his face in his hands, but his shoulders shook deceptively with laughter.
"Well, you see, dearest, when your Papa and I were much, much -"
"Much", Owen added with a grin.
"Yes, thank you. Much younger than today, we thought the stables were the perfect place for a New Year's Celebration." He had told this story so many times before, and the back and forth between himself and Owen in telling it had become a sort of performance in itself. To see new reactions to it, in Ahsoka's helpless giggles, Barriss' smile and Anakin's wide-eyed astonishment, was rather gratifying. It felt incredibly special, too, to share this piece of family trivia with them and rather fitting for the occasion, too.
"And thus we learned that hay and fondue are not exactly an ideal combination and also, that horses don't much care for melted cheese."
The tale's conclusion was met with a smattering of applause and cheers, which turned into even louder woops of joy as dessert was served. Cook really had outdone herself with an almost sinful and delicious concoction of vanilla creme and lemon cake, and a plethora of artful, edible garnishes.
"Oh, shit, that's the best pie, I mean cake, I mean dessert, I've ever had", Anakin nearly moaned after taking his first bite and then froze, his fork suspended in mid air, glancing around the table at all the faces now turned in his direction. "I mean, damn, ah, sorry, I'm. It's good, is what I wanted to say. It's really good and. Sorry, I'll be right back."
"Anakin-" Before Obi-Wan could say anything else, Anakin had practically jumped from his chair and was heading out the door, all heads present swiveling to follow him. "What's pie?" one of Owen's girls piped up in the ensuing silence, breaking the spell. Obi-Wan's mother reached out to put a hand on top of his, squeezing softly. "You should go check on him. I fear we have frightened that poor boy quite too much."
Obi-Wan sighed softly, then nodded, pushing back his chair. "I will see you in the living room later."
It did not take long for him to find Anakin, thankfully, tucked away on a windowsill in Obi-Wan's bedroom, head leaned against the window, his breath fogging up the cool glass rhythmically.
When he heard Obi-Wan's steps approach, he only curled up more tightly, but made no move to bolt. "Sorry", he muttered quietly as Obi-Wan sat down beside him, glancing down at the garden below and the barn beyond that. Off in the distance, every now and then, a flower of firework flashed across the sky. "I didn't mean to curse. It was just really good food and I slipped up. I'm sorry."
"It really was fucking good food, wasn't it?" Obi-Wan said softly, smiling when Anakin looked up at him. "What?"
"You're a dick, you know that?" Anakin blew out a breath, than let his head drop onto his knees, hiding his face. "I just made myself look like an idiot in front of your entire family and you're making fun of me." Wrapping his arms around his knees, Anakin seemed to try and make himself even smaller. "You can't tell me she doesn't hate me now."
Obi-Wan hummed softly, then leaned forward to press his lips to the crown of Anakin's head. "She actually send me after you, you know. Thinks we've scared you off with our whole - " He gestured at the room, the house, the estate, unsure of how to put it all into one fitting world.
"Fanciness?", Anakin supplied, peaking out from under his crossed arms, thankfully smiling a little again. "Or rather poshness in your words." He made an admirable effort at imitating the accent, which made both of them laugh.
"Yes, that, but you'll see, the longer the evening goes on, that we're just a regular family. We laugh, we cry, we argue, we curse, even. Heck, Owen can hold his own against the worst of sailors, trust me. A little shit is the least of our mother's worries."
"You're just saying that to make me feel better. Damn, Obi-Wan. I mean, when I first came to visit, I was stunned already and kinda understood what you meant when you said you're royalty, but then it was just us and sometimes Cody and he's normal and Kit and Aayla and Quinlan, who, by the way, is the least fancy person I can imagine, but tonight I've come to realize that - that - fuck. You really are royal. You're like, actually a prince or something and I'm just - just-"
"Two-times Olympic Gold Medalist Anakin Skywalker. And, more importantly, you're the man I am quite madly in love with and that is really so much more than titles and estates and poshness. I love you, Anakin. In fact, I love you so much, I was hoping to ask you something tonight. Originally, I wanted to do that in front of everyone, after dessert but -" Obi-Wan hesitated for a moment, as Anakin's eyes widened, shocked. "Perhaps this is the far better place."
"Obi-Wan?"
"I had a whole speech prepared and everything, but come to think of it, that's not very us, is it? We've always been about spur of the moment. I hope you will not think I mean it any less."
"Obi-Wan..."
"Anakin Skywalker, will you do me the great honor of moving in with me?"
"I- what?" Anakin's eyes widened even further, his nose crinkling up in confusion. "Move - move in? Like in here? This house?"
"Well, I would also give you keys to the other properties, of course, but mainly this house, yes. Only if you want to, of course. I understand that it would be quite the big move and far from home and all your friends and come to think of it, perhaps it was a silly idea but, well-" Obi-Wan fell silent, his shoulders slumping a bit. "I miss you every day you're not close and even now, with a whole week of your vacation still ahead of us, I already dread saying goodbye and -" His explanation was lost in a fierce kiss, as Anakin surged forward to wrap himself around Obi-Wan's body, sliding into his lap and slinging his arms firmly around his neck. When they parted, both a little out of breath, Obi-Wan could not help but laugh quietly. "I take that as a yes?"
"Yes, you dick! Yes! Fuck yes. You already build me a fucking skate park, how can I say no to that? Ahsoka has been going on about wanting to move in with Barriss for a while now so they can just have the apartment now and I'll be here. With you. Always! Well, unless there's tournaments and stuff but still. Fuck, I love you, Obi-Wan, I love you so much!" In the low light of the moon from the window, Obi-Wan could see the tears in Anakin's eyes, rolling down his cheeks to get lost in his wide, beautiful smile. He leaned up to kiss them away.
"I love you, too, my darling. Now, shall we join the family again? Or - " Obi-Wan glanced over his shoulder for a moment, down at the softly illuminated barn. "Let's do another round of the stables. Just to make sure that the horses are fine. And the saddle storage."
They made it back to the living room just in time for the countdown, attributing the pieces of hay found in both their hairs to the fact that Boga was particularly affectionate. As the clock sounded midnight and cheers went up around the room, Obi-Wan pulled Anakin close for a kiss and felt, for the first time in a long while, like this New Year was truly a new beginning.
#eden rambles#ficlet#star wars#anakin skywalker#obi-wan kenobi#my writing#obikin#fanfiction#my wips#half-pass and half-pipes au#olympics au
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Kinktober #1 -- Humiliation, hair pulling
Joining kinktober super late, but if you have any prompts, just drop them in my ask box!!
“Look at you,” Obi-Wan says, and his voice is so full of derision that Anakin squirms, gasping, tears welling up in his eyes. His Master so rarely resorts to contempt, hates having to do so, he knows, and he knows he deserves the scorn, he does, after defying his Master so openly, so carelessly, in front of a Galactic senator no less.
Usually, his Master is so, so gentle and understanding, unless Anakin pushes him too far, and he did – he pushed him too far, knowingly, and he wonders if Obi-Wan knows that it’s a punishment as well a a reward, the way his Padawan braid if wrapped tightly in Obi-Wan’s fist like it’s a leash, the way red blooms around the shape of his Master’s hand on his bottom and makes everything more sensitive, the way the pace of his cock against Anakin’s prostate is just this side of too much too fast, pushing the air out of his lungs and making his spine bend and melt into the movement.
“Look at you,” Obi-Wan repeats disdainfully. “You think you can defy me? You think you are ready to be a Knight?”
He tugs harshly at the braid, and Anakin whines. “Master – Master, I’m –”
“Look at you,” Obi-Wan snarls. “You’re so needy, so desperate for a good fuck. You can’t go three days without panting for it like a dog. You go any longer without anyone fucking your brains out and you turn stupid, unable to formulate any clearly thought out plan, as you demonstrated today. And you want to be a Knight?”
Anakin keens. He needs Obi-Wan to fuck him harder, to evaporate any coherent thought. “Master, Master, please –”
Cruelly, Obi-Wan slows his thrusts until they are shallow, the movement barely noticeable. “A Knight is self-sufficient. A Knight is selfless, serving the people of the Republic. A Knight doesn’t want or need anything.”
He leans down, plastering himself to Anakin, chest to chest, and whispers in his ear. Anakin grasps the opportunity to wrap his legs around him and kiss him, panting against his lips when Obi-Wan pulls back.
“A Knight is separated from his Master, because he can be trusted to act on his own. Do you think you can be trusted to be on your own, away from me for months and months? You can’t,” he says. “Look at how much you need direction, how much you need a cock in you. You get stupid when someone doesn’t fuck you right for a few days. What are you going to do when you are apart from me, hm? Are you going to doom entire civilisations because you are horny and stupid? Are you going to just fuck anyone to keep you in check? Are you going to be happy hanging off the first thick cock you find?”
“I wouldn’t,” he cries, hot tears running down his cheeks. “I wouldn’t, Master!”
“Yes, you would. You’re so hungry for it. You’d let anyone fuck you, wouldn’t you?”
“I wouldn’t”, Anakin protests.
“My pretty little liar,” Obi-Wan croons. “You think you can think straight without getting fucked? How will you complete missions on your own, then? Tell me.”
“I’d make a replica of your cock and fuck myself with it,” Anakin gasps, because there’s no line in the sand he hasn’t relished in stepping over. It’s the perfect solution, too; he’d get to go on his own missions without missing anything.
To his surprise, Obi-Wan just laughs. “You think all you need is the shape of my cock, and that will save you?” he asks. He pulls out, wrestles Anakin on his belly before he can protest, and lets the head of his cock kiss Anakin’s hole. “Go on, then. If you think you don’t need me, just my cock – prove it. Get yourself off.”
And Anakin – well, he tries. The instructions are simple enough, and the position he’s in allows for a decent range of movement. He starts slow and sinuous, and ends up with a quick and brutal pace, and it should be enough – enough to entice Obi-Wan to move, to touch him in any way, enough to get off – but it isn’t, and soon enough he’s sobbing with need. He can’t rock back onto Obi-Wan’s cock at a satisfying angle, not quickly enough, not when he’s trying to strip his cock with his hand, and he’s so, so, close, but it doesn’t matter. It’s not enough.
“Let me ride you,” he begs.
His Master snorts. “You think that’ll help you?” he asks, but he lies down on his back, pulling Anakin on top of him, surprisingly indulgent. “There you go. Try your best.”
The taunting challenge in his voice makes Anakin set a quick, rough pace, because he can do this, he can – except Obi-Wan refuses to touch him, crosses his hands behind his back and allows Anakin to use him, but won’t even put his hands on him; won’t touch his cock, won’t grip his hips in those wonderful broad hands of his that can span so much of Anakin’s waist, won’t tease his nipples of pull his hair like he usually does and it’s – it’s torture, is what it is. Anakin rides him until his thighs begin to tremble uncontrollably, until tears are rolling down his face and the gasping breaths he takes turn into shaking sobs.
He’s so, so close, still, but he cannot fall over the edge, no matter what he does.
“Master,” he begs, “Master, please, I want to come –”
“And why,” Obi-Wan asks, “do you think you always deserve to get what you want?”
A desperate whine escapes him. “Please, I promise I’ll be better, I’ll be good –”
“Will you? Will you be good so you can be a Knight? So you can be trusted, away from me?”
“No,” Anakin gasps. “I’ll be good for you, I will, but please don’t send me away, I need you, I need you –”
And finally, finally, that’s the right answer. Suddenly, Obi-Wan’s hands are on his hips, the grip tight and bruising, holding Anakin still as his hips piston up into the scorching heat of his hole, the pace fast and relentless and unforgiving and finally, finally enough. Anakin comes with a silent scream, spine bowed and fingernails raking visible trails down the fair skin of Obi-Wan’s chest. He thinks he blacks out for a second, and when he comes to, he’s half collapsed on his Master’s chest, his cock still moving in and out of him at a brutal pace, making him shudder with the aftershocks of pleasure.
“Give it to me,” he whines, speech slurred with how good it feels. “Master, come inside me, mark me, please, give it to me, show everyone I’m yours!”
Obi-Wan curses under his breath, and before Anakin can even parse his words, he’s dumped unceremoniously onto his back, and he could cry at the sudden emptiness.
“I’ll mark you, for everyone to see,” Obi-Wan promises, his voice dark and heated, kneeling over Anakin and stripping his cock quickly, wildly, and Anakin keens when he realizes what’s about to happen.
“Yes, yes Master, please –” He barely has time to open his mouth before the first thick, hot stripes of come coat his face and tongue, his neck and chest and –
“Look at this,” Obi-Wan says, tugging at his Padawan braid. That, too, is covered in white strands of his Master’s come. Anakin whimpers when he sees it, and despite himself, he feels his cock twitch with interest. “Do you know what that means?”
“I’m yours,” Anakin whispers, his voice hoarse. “It means I’m yours.”
Finally, finally, Obi-Wan softens. “Good boy,” he praises, and leans down to kiss him, and everything else fades away.
#star wars#anakin skywalker#Obi-Wan Kenobi#otp: more intimately than lovers#obikin#kinktober#ficlet#obikin bingo
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Demonstration
Their wrists are almost touching.
Anakin focuses on his breathing as he and Obi-Wan circle each other in slow methodical movements. His pulse is even, beating in his neck in counterpoint to each inhale-exhale of his lungs. Their hands are poised in defensive positions between them.
Hand-to-hand combat training with Obi-Wan has always been Anakin’s favourite.
This close he can smell him. The musk beneath the fading smoky-sweet cologne his Master wears is growing thicker as perspiration builds over the course of their training. Sweat has darkened Obi-Wan’s hair near the roots, bringing out the rusty tones like old metal, the long fluffy strands gaining texture the more he runs his fingers through it between brief bursts of violence as they kick and strike one another. Strands of strawberry blonde are beginning to stick to his neck where Obi-Wan is growing it out, curling against his skin.
Anakin’s arm aches with the memory of each block, bruises beginning to form like growing shadows under his skin. Obi-Wan’s touch imprinted upon him that lasts longer than the impact. He is developing a craving for them, the tender blooms of blood beneath his skin that he presses with hesitant fingers in the night when he is alone in the nest of his bed, wishing there was someone to hold him.
He settles for this.
Obi-Wan ducks fluidly beneath Anakin’s high kick, popping back up to deliver a strike just above the elbow. It hurts, Anakin is always tender there, but the adrenaline drowns it out and all he feels is the euphoric high of the brief contact of the calloused edge of his Master’s palm.
Before Obi-Wan can pull away, Anakin grabs his forearm with his left hand, warm skin almost searing his palm, arm hair scratching slightly. He wants to trace the veins and arteries that are being crushed beneath his grip, follow their blue lines up to the sensitive hollow of the elbow, over the swell of strong biceps, along the sensual curve of his shoulder to the elegant column of his neck so he can pull his Master in, close and intimate.
Instead he yanks, trying to unseat Obi-Wan’s strong stance, twisting. Obi-Wan springs, agile and acrobatic from his years of dedication to Ataru as a padawan, and flips when Anakin demands but under his own terms, landing light on his feet and reversing the hold until Anakin is at his mercy. It takes only seconds for his feet to be knocked asunder, falling out from under him so he drops like a stone. Anakin falls prone, Obi-Wan coming down atop of him, knees on either side of his body.
Shameful arousal spreads like blood in the water between the cradle of his hips. How many nights has he spent, helplessly grinding into his mattress and imagining the protective weight of Obi-Wan pressed above him, pinning him as he pins him now but with the added fantasy of being split open around the width of his cock. Instinct screams for him to lay still, to let his Master grind into his ass, location be damned.
He uses better judgment and struggles—shields keeping his riot of lust at bay—and trying to unseat Obi-Wan to no avail until his Master has effectively immobilized him with a powerful arm beneath his chin, forcing Anakin to bow his back as he’s pulled into an effective hold. The iron grip on his wrist that Obi-Wan pins to the small of his back is the final nail in the coffin of this fight.
“It is imperative that you do not block the airway,” Obi-Wan explains, not even out of breath, his voice intimately close to Anakin’s ear. His tone is clinical and instructing, but there is a twinge of a smile in the shape of his vowels. “We must always strive to do the least amount of damage to our opponents, whoever they are. Padawan Skywalker here is very well behaved but when you are on missions, many of your foes will not be so accommodating.”
His Master is always so good at delivering backhanded compliments, the kind that make him squirm with both shame at the position he’s been forced into and the pride at being called well behaved.
“But what if it’s a really bad person?” A small Mirialan initiate asks.
Anakin’s skin burns beneath his clothing at every point where Obi-Wan’s body comes into contact with his own and he can feel it through his bones when his Master chuckles, the vibration shattering him to his core. His control over his emotions, his arousal, is fraying and he clings to keeping it contained to the shell of his mind.
“Well,” Obi-Wan considers, and Anakin can imagine his grin, all teeth and slate eyes bright. “I said no damage—I didn’t say it couldn’t hurt.”
The initiates giggle and Anakin almost whimpers when Obi-Wan lets him go and stands up. Suddenly, he feels cold where he has been burning up like an iron planet core seconds before. Bereft, Anakin lays there on the mat a moment longer, missing the weight of his Master. His face flushes more at the thought of his shameful desires that were quickly beginning to invade every aspect of his life outside his lonely bed. He presses his forehead to the mat with a groan, willing away his impending erection.
“Anakin?”
Polished boots appear before his eyes.
“Surely I haven’t wounded your pride this much, my very young apprentice.”
He pushes himself up, rising with cheer and enthusiasm to hop on his feet. After all, the demonstration was far from over, and Anakin would take small solace in the brief moments when Obi-Wan’s hands would hold him. “Never, my very old Master!”
Obi-Wan sighs, rolling his eyes while running a hand through his hair, the light of the training salle catching on the red undertones.
“What am I going to do with him,” he asks their tiny audience.
The initiates giggle again, hiding happy smiles behind their hands.
#obikin#anakin skywalker#obi-wan kenobi#my writing#ficlet#fic rec#found this in one of my many WIP that is just... not working lol#but this bit was really good so I kept it#and decided to post it here
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"You wanted to see me, Senator Skywalker?"
The heavy door of the apartment opens easily under his hand, his gaze going immediately to the lean figure standing next to the large windows. The colours of the sunset bathe the seemingly relaxed shoulders on the senator beautifully, even half covered in a heavy robe.
"Just 'Anakin' is fine." The man says as he turns, revealling a much less conservative outfit than the one he saw him wearing at the senate floor. Gone are the layers of dark fabric that accentuated his broad shoulders, replaced by a tight top that allows him to show off his tight stomach, his golden skin. His baggy pants resting so low on his hips Obi-Wan can clearly appreciate the gorgeous indent of his hip bones.
Obi-Wan had never felt his mouth water this fast in his life.
"Senator Anakin" his mouth provides helpfully, speaking out of habit, because his brain is definitely not the one helping now. He has the pleasure of seeing his stomach ripple as Senator Skywalker laughs at his small attempts to keep some modicum of distance.
"Padmé told me you were funny." The man adds, motioning for him to get closer. He hadn't noticed his placement next to the window was strategic, until the warm light of the setting sun kissed the side of his face. Now it seemed painfully obvious how Anakin had looked for a warmth source, like a loth-cat on a roof.
"Why did you call me here, Senator?" He insists, feeling the need to get it out of the way before he starts noticing more things about his companion. The knowledge of exactly what shade of blue Anakin's eyes are this up close will haunt him for days to come.
Maybe months.
"I've heard you have some experience in dealing with the Hutts," Anakin says, disdain clear in his voice even as he pronounces the name of the former ruler of Tatooine in anything but the title. "and I need your help."
"The Jedi will aid you in anything the senate deems necessary" Obi-Wan offers immediately, his brow furrowing. The senator shouldn't (wouldn't) have called him personally here if he wanted help from the Jedi, much less talked to him. He should have requested a meeting with—
"And wait years for these old fucks to decide on whether a tiny planet of the outer rim needs help?" Anakin laughs, his tone both disbelieving and disdainful. His eyes are wild as he gets closer, his face inches away. "No, Master Kenobi — Obi-Wan," the senator corrects himself, his hands going to rest over the jedi's crossed arms. "You are going to help me take the Hutts down. Just you and me."
Obi-Wan doesn't need to have the gift of foresight to know that he is going to help this gorgeous man in front of him.
Shit, he is, isn't he. He is going to help Anakin Skywalker, senator of the Republic, the Huttslayer, marksman extraordinaire, take down one of the most famous crime families in the Galaxy. Obi-Wan is fucked.
Quinlan would be so proud of him.
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