#the only right one for obiwan
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"padme is a dom" this and "anakin is a dom" that HAVE YOU CONSIDERED THEY'RE VERSATILE
#I'M TIRED OF BEING THE ONLY PERSON WHO'S RIGHT#theyre switches theyre versatile whenever they make a bet the losing person gets to sub and they both try to lose on purpose#anidala#padme amidala#anakin skywalker#no one tag this with 'thats why they get obiwan to top' takes#i do not want to hear it
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Memories of Chocolate Laced Kisses
It's finally done! And before I overthink it and do another ten edits here it is! The night Obi-Wan and Cressida's son was conceived! This was really hard to get through and it was a struggle to keep a specific tone I set, so I hope you all like it!
Memories of Chocolate Laced Kisses
She had always been particularly gifted in the area of evasion, her years as a sentinel no doubt took what was already a natural talent and sharpened that skill into perfection. With our meeting finished, Cressida, once more, had slipped away, disappearing like a vapor and I found myself standing alone in the practice room. This place had served as a neutral ground for our discussion regarding Solan, it was a location I hadn't frequented in quite some time. Until now, I had little reason to set foot in such a place, I wasn’t a teacher, not like the other masters who possessed the innate ability to connect with small children, it was never something I was particularly good at. However, being back in this room, waves of nostalgia washed over me in my solitude, bringing back a wealth of memories of my own youth.
This very room had been where I once stood as a youngling, learning to harness the Force and master my emotions, just like we all did, some faster than others. Despite the years and countless Jedi who had passed through these doors, the place remained virtually unchanged, it even smelled the same. How that was possible I wasn’t quite certain but the sense of familiarity was both comforting and bittersweet.
Some things never change, and some things must. I was falling into the latter category, I must change.
In contrast to my distant past, the room now felt smaller, almost diminutive whereas once it seemed to loom so large it was difficult to comprehend. I couldn't help but imagine how Solan might have looked donned in the traditional Jedi robes that his mother and I once wore. How he might have looked standing in this room surrounded by his clan, other force-sensitive children like himself, all learning, all a bit afraid. The thought brought a warm smile to my lips.
Getting to know Solan wasn’t going to be without its challenges, it was already becoming evident that he inherited traits from both his mother and me, from what little I had seen. The quick wit, sharp remarks he got from me, and an unwavering determination and calculable observation were among the qualities that were imparted to him from his mother, together they defined him. A blend of the two of us, it was amazing when I thought of it. I had never given much thought to children, certainly never of having any of my own, yet here I was, a father to a young Jedi in training. The notion of seeing Solan as we once were, in robes that may have been a little too large, wearing a training helmet, and wielding a training saber was one that warmed me inside. However, this particular memory was but a fiction—a scenario of what could have been but never was, at least not how I imagined it. In truth, Solan had discovered his connection to the Force through clandestine training sessions with his mother, in dangerous territory, hidden from my knowledge, and my protection.
My smile waned, and I found myself weighed down once more by the reality of my new life, my world grew heavy again feeling as though it were forcing me down, I sat myself on the floor, lost in contemplation. My thoughts swirled around the complexities of my life and how it had all commenced. It hadn't started in this room, but rather in the very quarters I inhabited whenever I was in the temple—my late master Qui-Gon's quarters. I closed my eyes, allowing my mind to drift back through the sands of time. The memories flowed in reverse, like a river running backward.
Back...
Back...
Back...
Until I arrived at the precise moment I wished to revisit, a memory I had not permitted myself to visit, one that now pained and confused me—the night when Cressida and I had passionately shared together, the night Solan had been conceived.
With my mind's eye now open, I stood in Qui-Gon's old room, gazing upon the specter of my former self. I was a young, newly anointed Jedi Knight, weighed down by the immense responsibilities of the galaxy, struggling to bear that burden alone.
And I was very alone.
The room seemed to hold echoes of that fateful night, and I couldn't help but wonder how different our lives might have been had we chosen a different path, but as I watched the dance of the ghosts of the past play out before my eyes, I found myself inexplicably grateful that my path had been set as it was and that it now intertwined with Cressida.
~~~
“What will happen to me?"
"You will be a Jedi, I promise,"
When the pyre had burned to nothing and only the ashes of a great Jedi master remained, Obi-wan retired to his fallen Master's quarters for one last night. The council had been kind in letting him remain where his master once called home, a small respite before he had to move on. He sat uncertain of how to proceed, only knowing that he had to. In a few days' time, he would begin training Anakin as his own Padawan. The enormity of the task weighed heavily on his shoulders, physically pulling him down, yet somehow he managed to maintain his composure. After everything that had happened, there was a blissful numbness that settled over him.
~~~
Sunset colored the room with warm shades in an attempt to breathe some life into the small space, which felt more like a tomb as the days had gone by. The whole room seemed dead like a spell, cold and lifeless had been cast upon it, trapping its inhabitant in stasis. Beyond the walls, life continued within the Jedi Order. Within the modest quarters that had been Qui-Gon Jinn's, the final rays of sunlight withdrew from the floor, plunging the room into twilight.
Master Qui-Gon’s pyre had drawn hundreds to the temple grounds and as he watched his master’s final journey into the unknown, he felt lost in a sea of faces. He felt as though he were watching it all happen through someone else’s eyes. A spectator to a day he had never wanted to see. Like no one saw him; no one except for the boy who was as alone as he was.
Anakin.
He’d spent the last few days in the stillness of Master Qui-Gon’s empty quarters, alone. He just needed a bit of time to deal with his grief. To somehow find himself because as soon as he left this room, he would be Obi-wan Kenobi Jedi Knight and Master to the Chosen One. The thought alone was terrifying.
"Master..." The word was a whisper, a ghostly echo of conversations past.
Even though the seat across from him at the table he sat at was empty, it was hard to believe Qui-Gon was truly gone. Harder still to fathom that he was about to step into the role of a Master and train Anakin Skywalker—the Chosen One. How could he teach another when his own heart was adrift in sorrow?
He just needed a little more time. He needed to wake up. But more than that he needed to find the willpower to stop sitting here, at the same table he and Qui-Gon used to share meals with and had countless conversations. Because no one sat across from him anymore.
He just stared at the two meals that had long since gone cold as if the presence of two portions of uneaten food would somehow change things, but despite not eating for days he felt no hunger or thirst.
Would it be this way forever?
He knew realistically the answer was ‘no.’ That he would find a way to pull himself up, that he would rise to the occasion and make his master proud and fulfill his dying wish. He would make Anakin a Jedi, it was just hard knowing that this time he would do it alone. Draped in Qui-Gon's robe, its oversized embrace offered a comforting haven, even though the hem sometimes skimmed the floor, causing a stumble now and then. In spite of its impractical size, the robe carried memories of his former master, making it too precious for Obi-Wan to remove.
Time was purposeless and held no sway over him, sat somewhere between a meditative state and consciousness, he lingered. The mechanical hiss of the doors saw no acknowledgement, nor did the soft light that flooded into the room or the hushed footsteps that stopped behind him. It wasn’t until he felt he was being stared at out of his peripheral vision that he turned for the first time in hours to see who it was that interrupted his solace, and it wasn't a face he expected.
Cressida Vox.
He hadn’t seen her in two years and the passage of time was apparent as it took his shock a few moments to catch up. Regardless of the flow of those two years and all that had changed, her eyes were still the same. Overcast and gray, like a peaceful day with clouds and gentle rain, bringing a sense of tranquility. She sat on her knees next to him saying nothing but the concern on her face communicating everything, reaching in a way words failed.
"Cress…"
As if awakening from a dream, his voice barely rising above a whisper, as if he feared he wasn’t really seeing what he was seeing.
"Hello, Obi-Wan,"
Though he couldn't find the words to respond, a sense of reassurance washed over him at the sight of her well-being. She offered him a muted smile and took his cold hand in hers, gently prying it from his own clasped grip. Taking immediate note of the indentations on his skin left by his own nails, something Obi-Wan hadn't realized until her fingers traced over the angry little lines, she reassured him with a squeeze, her thumb brushing lightly across his knuckles.
It was heart-wrenching to see those pools of blue that had once sparkled with the promise of adventure, camaraderie and compassion, now dulled, lost in the shadows that seemed to cling to the corners of the room.
“I know.”
That was all she said.
His voice quivered with each attempt to speak, and the sorrow that had been accumulating over the past few days surged forward, causing him to slump forward in sheer exhaustion, unable to hold back any longer. She wrapped him in her arms, cradling his head as he shook with grief, a sorrow she was unfortunately too familiar with. She wished so much that he didn't have to share this pain with her now, she’d have given anything to take it from him, but not even in the expanse of the cosmic Force, did such a power exist. Her fingers ran through the short hair at the back of his neck as his hot tears met her skin, and Obi-Wan wept.
The friendships between Padawans were something special in Jedi life, enduring across decades and the vastness of the galaxy. These connections often felt like the Padawans had spent everyday together, even if that wasn't the case. In the case of Obi-Wan and Cressida, their meetings were infrequent, but each one left a profound impact.
Without the strong friendship between their Masters, Obi-Wan and Cressida might never have crossed paths. This realization weighed heavily on Obi-Wan as he held onto Cressida tightly, almost painfully so. She didn't dare move, struck by the jarring sight of Obi-Wan in such a vulnerable state. Known for his confident and warm smile, always ready with a clever remark, seeing him falling apart felt fragile. Through the worst of things, he had always stayed positive. The despair coming from him was unbearable, but she felt uniquely qualified to offer solace.
Two years ago, the tables had turned, and she was the one drowning in tears after her master's brutal death. Back then, Obi-Wan had been her comforting presence, dispelling the frigid void surrounding her. His hands firmly held hers, extending a lifeline, while his arms embraced her as she unraveled.
Now, seated side by side, they shared a silent moment. The echoes of his subdued lament gradually faded away. The intense sobs that had overtaken him earlier subsided, reduced to a mere tremor with each exhale. His breathing settled into a rhythmic cadence, growing more measured with each inhalation and exhalation.
When he finally looked up, his eyes still held a hint of redness, stained by lingering sadness. Yet, within the weariness of his gaze, a faint glimmer of Obi-Wan Kenobi emerged. A subtle nod followed—an unspoken assurance that he wasn't okay, but he would be alright. He was on the path to recovery. Despite the brokenness of his smile, there was a visible effort to reclaim himself, one piece at a time, starting with that smile. While the corners of his mouth didn't entirely turn upwards, the initial attempt proved somewhat successful. It marked a gradual return of the Obi-Wan she knew, a testament to his resilience and the slow resurgence of his inner strength.
"Your hair is longer," he remarked, his voice carrying a soft, tired undertone, yet a warmth returning to his words.
She tilted her head, looking for the long braid she used to tug on incessantly. "And you're missing a braid," A subdued burst of laughter escaped him. "How will I grab your attention now?"
Their laughter, though tinged with a sense of forced lightness, echoed in the room. Obi-Wan chuckled, a newfound appreciation for their shared history of pranks, and shrugged. "I suppose we'll have to resort to communicating like responsible adults." Her raised eyebrow conveyed skepticism.
"Are we even capable of that?" she questioned, her doubt evident. He responded with a nonchalant shrug.
"I believe we can manage," he asserted. Obi-Wan leaned in, resting his forehead against hers, and whispered, "Welcome home." The dynamic in the room shifted as the sadness retreated to the shadows; with Cressida's presence, it seemed to stand no chance. Laughter, less forced, infused the air, carrying a hint of relief at their reunion.
~~~
"The refectory tells me that you request plates of food daily– two of them, and consistently, they remain untouched," Obi-Wan avoided her gaze, providing no explanation. "You know he wouldn't want this."
"I'd give anything to have one more meal with him, maybe somehow if I could, then I'd be more prepared for what comes next. I suppose that's why I keep calling for two plates. I know he's gone, but—" He trailed off, then like a burst damn, blurted it out. “How can I do this? How can I train a padawan? What if I fail him? What I-”
His gaze fell on the lightsaber and the untouched food. Before he could retreat into his thoughts, Cressida's hand squeezing pulled him back.
“You will be what Anakin needs, see the way clear, Obi-Wan. Trust in the Force, and you can’t fail.”
"Sometimes, it feels like a nightmare I can't wake from, Cress. Other times, it's like I'm seeing it happen to someone else." Observing Cressida's subtle nod, the one she did without meaning to. This prompted a question he had never asked but often wondered about, "How did you do it? How did you recover from this?"
With a deep and introspective breath, she responded in a tone reminiscent of a confession, her gaze fixated on Qui-Gon’s lightsaber. "I don’t suppose I ever did," she admitted.
His expression mirrored diminished hope, as if he were anticipating some morsel of wisdom.
“Does it ever get any easier?”
She gave a hesitant shrug, her response filled with uncertainty, as if the question had caught her off guard, or maybe she hadn't fully sorted through her thoughts.
"Yes. And no." Her words carried an ambivalent tone. "Some days, it feels like I can still hear his voice. Other days, I can't even remember what it sounded like. I don’t think there is recovery, only acceptance. It won't ever fade, but with time, it gets a bit easier to bear. Living makes it harder to dwell on the ones we've lost." Her gaze shifted to the empty space where Qui-Gon used to sit. "The memory always lingers; no one truly vanishes."
Obi-Wan remained silent, his eyes fixed on the food in front of him, as if caught between the urge to eat and an inner struggle. She reached for one of the plates, pulling it closer. When he didn't respond, she offered a piece of now-cold bread, extending it toward him. However, he showed no interest in taking it. His focus barely shifted, even when Cressida playfully joked about the bread not being poisoned and lightly poked him in the face with it. She had hoped for a laugh or a smile, but the best he managed was a less melancholic frown and furrowed brow.
"If you want to keep pace with a padawan, you'll need your strength,"
The reference to Anakin appeared to cut through Obi-Wan's preoccupation. Anakin, much like Obi-Wan, grappled with the difficulties of being alone. The burden of his commitment to both Qui-Gon and Anakin pressed heavily on him. "Do it for me." Her smile carried a blend of gentle pleading, and it appeared to touch him at last. With the slightest of smiles, he took the bread.
"Thank you," he whispered, then took a disinterested bite.
At first, he chewed slowly, almost as if struggling with himself to eat. However, as the act of chewing continued, his body seemed to awaken from its stupor, reacquainting itself with the taste of food. Gradually, his appetite rekindled.
She nudged his plate back toward him, and he resumed eating slowly. Offering some of his meal to Cressida, she accepted more out of a desire to ensure he didn't stop eating than genuine hunger. With deliberate restraint, she savored small bites, recalling the days when a younger Obi-Wan would consume his body weight, much to the horror of Master Deva L’Rue. The thought brought a smile to her face, reminiscing about those lighter moments.
As they shared the meal, it brought back memories of better days when their paths crossed, and both masters and their padawans enjoyed shared meals and stories. This was the first time in two years that they had dined together. The previous occasion had followed the passing of Cressida's master, Deva L'Rue, adding a layer of somber reflection to their gathering. While the absence of their masters meant fewer conversations and embarrassing stories, the simple act of breaking bread brought comfort. Turning to Cressida, Obi-Wan, as though contemplating the question throughout the meal, finally asked:
"Where have you been?"
The question arose from a mix of curiosity and a lingering yearning that endured two years of silence. Obi-Wan understood the slim odds of receiving a direct answer, given the mystery surrounding Cressida's actions after her master's death. She had simply disappeared, leaving behind uncertainty that haunted him for a while. Despite the slim chances, he couldn't resist asking.
Her lips formed the kind of smile that carried the weight of untold secrets and extraordinary tales destined to remain unspoken. Instead of words, she raised her lightsaber, and with a vibrant yellow blade, it pierced through the shadows, casting a radiant glow.
She was a sentinel—a guardian of the Jedi Order, tasked with navigating the enigmatic realms beyond the well-trodden trails of traditional Jedi.
As her lightsaber hummed, the once-darkened room transformed into a space bathed in its brilliant illumination. The two-year silence suddenly made more sense and it saddened him further. Their destinies were set on divergent paths, and he couldn't help but wonder how many years might pass before their paths crossed again.
The secretive and independent role of a sentinel explained where she had been all this time and also brought up more questions, fortunately he knew better than to ask.
“Our masters would have been proud of you."
“They would be proud of us.”
Trying to infuse a bit of levity into the atmosphere, Obi-Wan interjected humor into their conversation, inquiring:
"Any extraordinary stories you can regale me with?"
Cressida, as though on the brink of revealing some hidden knowledge or secret anecdotes reserved solely for Obi-Wan, scanned their surroundings and playfully motioned for him to draw nearer. Her unexpected compliance surprised him, prompting him to shift closer, intrigued by the prospect that she might actually unveil something to him.
“Two may keep a secret if one is dead,” she whispered with a wink, leaving Obi-Wan to chuckle in response, he should have known better. "And we can’t deny the galaxy a face as handsome as yours,"
The unexpected compliment caught him by surprise, a delightful twist that brought a genuine smile to his face. Though no stranger to compliments on his good looks, there was a unique charm in the way Cressida delivered her words. It prompted him to cast a bashful glance at the ground, a soft chuckle escaping him as if to downplay the noticeable blush coloring his cheeks.
"Keep your secrets then; I won't pry them from you," he responded, sidestepping a direct acknowledgment of the complement while allowing a subtle warmth to touch the tips of his ears.
With Obi-Wan's plate finally cleared, life and color returned to him, prompting a relieved sigh from Cressida. The table, however, wasn't entirely empty. A lone dish remained—a small bowl of soup favored by Qui-Gon and Yoda. This root stew, resembling brackish water, held a special place in the hearts of the seasoned Jedi Masters. Despite its unappealing appearance, Qui-Gon and Yoda found delight in it, engaging in many conversations over the bowl during chance encounters on the temple grounds. They insisted it wasn't just tasty but also beneficial for one's well-being. Numerous attempts were made to persuade Obi-Wan and Cressida to try it, but even Master Deva L’Rue, delicately toeing the line between respect and tactlessness, kept his distance, declaring it smelled like swamp water.
Dodging this particular dish created an odd bond between Obi-Wan and Cressida, leading them to playfully call it that whenever it appeared. Qui-Gon, being fair, acknowledged it was an acquired taste, its prevalence tied to circumstances on an assignment. Under different circumstances, he might have never given it a second thought. Yoda's unbridled enthusiasm for the stew, coupled with grumbles about younglings being too picky, and his subsequent dive into the dish with an appetite bordering on ravenous, added a humorous twist to the culinary escapade in retrospect. Despite Obi-Wan and Cressida being far from younglings, in the eyes of a Jedi Master who had lived over 900 years, all Jedi, regardless of age, could be considered as such.
Obi-Wan and Cressida found themselves for the first time in several years face to face with the dreaded Swamp Water. A playful standoff ensued, with exchanged knowing glances and an unspoken challenge lingering in the air. With each daring the other to take the first taste, their expressions shifting between soft chuckles and head-shaking disbelief at the unappetizing bowl before them. Two Jedi knights, grappling with the burdens of the galaxy, found themselves in a lighthearted stalemate of stubbornness, and pride.
The passage of time had softened Cressida's recollection, and perhaps it wasn't as dreadful as she had remembered? After all, years had passed, and they were undeniably adults now. What better way to courageously face the future than with a ceremonial taste of the stew in Qui-Gon's honor? Naturally, she decided to let Obi-Wan take the first bite. Reaching forward, she stirred the contents of the bowl. The scent, even more unpleasant when cold, made her wrinkle her nose in a comically exaggerated display of distaste. Without missing a beat, she extended the spoon to Obi-Wan, who responded with an emphatic head shake and a resolute rejection of the utensil.
"Don't you think we're a little old for these games?"
Obi-Wan deftly evaded Cressida's attempts to feed him the dreaded swamp water stew, ducking his head from side to side. Her persistent and somewhat childish antics managed to coax a genuine smile from the Jedi Knight, filling the room with the rich resonance of his chuckles. Yet, Cressida wasn't satisfied with mere smiles—she wanted unrestrained, hearty laughter,s he would accept nothing less.
"You’re exactly right, we’re far too old for these games. We’re adults. We're Jedi Knights, right?” She put the spoon back into the bowl and Obi-wan nodded, “Guardians of the Force, Keepers of the Peace." Obi-Wan nodded again in agreement, but a lingering skepticism still colored his expression, as if he anticipated a punchline he might not appreciate. "I think we've grown enough to triumph over a bowl of soup, don't you?"
"I suppose..." Obi-Wan chose to maintain a dubious stance, making no effort to hide it.
"You first." She pushed the bowl towards him
"What? Why me?" He blinked rapidly, sounding somewhat offended, shoving it back to her. "Ladies first."
“You’re the one with a padawan... who hasn’t eaten in a week,” she teased, determined to escalate their playful skirmish, pushing it with greater force. "It'll be good for you!"
"It’ll make me sick… Do you really want to witness me regurgitate what little sustenance I’ve managed?" Obi-Wan countered, injecting a playful tone into his words as they engaged in a lighthearted skirmish over who would summon the courage to taste the infamous stew. He gave it another shove, causing some of its contents to slosh out onto the table "Absolutely not!"
“Come now, Obi-Wan, make Qui-Gon proud, drink the swamp water.”
“You’re the sentry; I thought sentinels were known for their fearlessness,” He teased, playfully prodding at the pride associated with her sentinel status.
Unfazed, she shook her head, playfully accusing him, “Coward,” before boldly bringing the spoon to her lips and sampling the stew. Regret was instantaneous.
As her face contorted into a look of sheer disgust, she groaned, biting her lips inward to keep from expelling the substance. Her defensive posture resembled a creature recoiling from an unpleasant surprise as she dropped the spoon into the murky swamp water, a culinary nemesis that seemed to take personal offense. Obi-Wan couldn't contain the laughter that bubbled up within him rivaling the roar of a Wookiee. It erupted like a geyser, a release of pent-up tension, and the laughter poured out of him in uncontrollable waves, echoing through the room. The sheer absurdity of the situation fueled his amusement, and he found himself leaning on the table for support, laughing harder than he had in weeks. With wide eyes and an audible groan, she valiantly attempted to wrestle the offensive taste into submission, which only made him laugh harder.
With wide eyes and an exaggerated groan of displeasure, Cressida dropped the offending spoon into the swamp water as if it had bitten her, her eyes desperately searching for salvation. Meanwhile, in the midst of this gastronomic chaos, Obi-Wan, now sprawled on the floor, held his sides as if trying to contain his laughter within the confines of his body. It was as if the sheer force of his amusement had rendered him unable to sit upright. The scene unfolded like a comedic masterpiece, with Cressida's struggles and Obi-Wan's uncontrollable laughter creating a tableau of pure mirth.
Despite the daunting challenge, Cressida summoned her physical training outside the influence of the Force, conquering the spoonful of the culinary concoction in several determined swallows. Her victory was marked by a post-swallow shudder that rippled through her entire being, and she couldn't help but let her tongue hang out in a comical display. Meanwhile, Obi-Wan, still clutching his sides, had tears streamed down his face as he watched Cressida's valiant effort, finding immense amusement in the unexpected respite from the prevailing heaviness that had haunted them for days.
"It's vile!"
In her desperate attempt to banish the unpleasant taste, she continually opened and closed her mouth, her eyes fixed on Obi-Wan's cup of water, revealing a desperate thirst for relief. With a mischievous glint in his eye, Obi-Wan beat her to it and held the water just out of her reach, goading her until she practically scaled the table in pursuit. Amused by her antics, he continued to laugh at her desperation.
In the past, she would have resorted to tugging on his braid, a playful gesture no longer available since it was now gone. Instead, she opted for his collar, giving it a firm tug that pulled him back and caused the water to splash on the table. Unable to allow her to suffer any longer, Obi-Wan surrendered the coveted drink. As she took generous sips, hoping in vain for respite, she groaned between gulps
"This is not fit for human consumption!"
"Did the water help?" Obi-Wan asked, still chuckling, his laughter unabated, fully aware of the predictable answer.
In response, Cressida forcefully exhaled in his direction, unleashing an aroma that hit him like a gust of wind from the darkest corners of the galaxy. Obi-Wan recoiled, a look of sheer horror on his face, as if he had just faced a Sith Lord's malevolent Force attack. Fortunately, the odor passed quicker than the taste, leaving him only with the memory of the unpleasant aroma. Meanwhile, Cressida's suffering continued, and his laughter returned. It had been years since he had seen this side of Cressida—funny, at ease, and thoroughly disgusted.
Her expression turned sharp, and she shot him a glare that could have cut through Durasteel.
"If you don't stop laughing, I'm going to leave you."
Her threat was delivered with a playful undertone, a joke. Truth be told, she was happy to see him enjoying a good laugh, even if it came at the cost of her culinary misadventure. His smile had a way of brightening the room, and she wouldn't trade that for anything.
Obi-Wan, toeing the line of good humor, decided to playfully throw in the towel. He raised his hands in mock defeat, after all, the Jedi were known for bringing balance to the galaxy—time to live up to that reputation. He reached for the dreaded spoon in solidarity, giving it a comical salute before bravely taking a bite in an act of penance. Attempting to swallow it in one gulp didn't quite work out, but, credit to Obi-Wan, he only hesitated briefly, a quizzical expression on his face as he pondered whether anything could be worse than what he had already endured.
Obi-Wan's response was immediate—a full-fledged gag reflex that far surpassed Cressida's, leading him to cover his mouth in a desperate attempt to avoid the impending upheaval caused by the foul concoction. As he contorted in exaggerated gestures of what seemed like a mix of disgust and pain, Cressida couldn't help but burst into laughter, and it felt as if the Force itself found amusement, sharing a cosmic chuckle at their expense. Despite their roles as Jedi, in that comical moment, they reveled in the realization that even the mighty Jedi Knight could be reduced to animated hilarity by a simple bowl of swamp stew. She pictured the amused spirits of their late masters having a hearty laugh from their celestial vantage point in the Force.
Here stood the man who had bested a Sith Lord, a Jedi Padawan of fearless courage, charm, and unwavering determination. Yet, the current spectacle before her was a stark departure—a tongue hanging out, portraying a kicked puppy facing an unjust penalty. The contrast between these two versions of Obi-Wan, the valiant Jedi and the humorously defeated one, created a comical scene that had her rolling with laughter.
As Obi-Wan grappled with the lingering aftertaste of the dreadful stew, Cressida couldn't resist teasing him, holding the glass of water just beyond his reach in a karmic twist. Despite momentarily forgetting about the glass, Obi-Wan swiftly focused on it. Intent on not letting her win, he summoned it with the Force, sending it toward him like a streak of lightning. With a triumphant gulp, he downed what little was left, only to be immediately assaulted by the infamous aftertaste. Panting like a dog, he struggled to exhale the foul flavor.
“How is it possible that it gets worse?” He groaned in exasperation, shuddering as Cressida did.
“Surprise.”
Pleased with the outcome and relishing in his laughter, along with the added amusement of witnessing his struggle with the repulsive dish, she couldn't help but flash a triumphant grin. Her mission to hear his genuine laughter, had succeeded, making the endeavor worthwhile.
She delved into her pocket, a carefree smile playing on her lips. With a shake of her head, a sense of familiar lightheartedness enveloped her as she pulled out a small bar of chocolate. The wrapper crinkled as she snapped off a piece, savoring the sweet and smooth relief it offered, countering the lingering aftertaste of the dubious stew. A sigh of contentment escaped her.
The sound of the crinkling wrapper drew Obi-Wan's attention, and he extended his hand expectantly. She noticed his puppy-eyed expression, silently pleading for a share. Momentarily indifferent, she watched him with amusement. However, true to their shared history of banter and pranks, she mischievously kept the chocolate just out of his reach, maintaining the playful spirit of their ongoing games.
"Are you truly so heartless, to let me suffer through the torment of this aftertaste?" His face twisted in misery, desperate for relief.
"Maybe," she replied with a sly grin.
"Cressida, please," he implored, injecting a touch of mock desperation into his plea.
Her amusement deepened. "You call that begging?"
“I beg of you, please, have mercy on my poor taste buds.” His words sought respite, even if there was a lightheartedness in his voice. However, it was the unbridled body-rocking laughter that she truly aimed to provoke. She chuckled and extended a piece to him, which he eagerly popped into his mouth, sighing in relief as the sweetness coated his tongue, banishing the lingering memory of the foul stew.
"That’s what you get for laughing at me," she teased, popping another piece of chocolate into her mouth.
"You wanted me to laugh," he countered, a playful glint in his eyes.
As their laughter faded, Cressida relented, and the two indulged in the sweet escape of chocolate, leaving the taste of the earlier dreadful stew as a distant memory. A light smile graced Obi-Wan's face.
"I did," she admitted with a genuine smile, handing him another piece of chocolate. He accepted it with a smile that held more light than dark. In that moment, she caught a glimpse of the Obi-Wan she knew, gradually emerging from the shadows that had veiled him. “So, are you man enough for another bite?” she playfully challenged, holding out the spoon as if it were a weapon and the soup was a battle. “Or are you still a padawan?”
Hands raised in surrender, Obi-Wan, with a twinkle in his eye, conjured an impression of Yoda, proclaiming, “Padawans to the will of the force we all are.” Her chuckle signaled her own surrender, and she set her spoon down. Once more, the two of them had been bested by the swamp water soup.
As their laughter subsided, a warmth settled in the room, replacing the earlier somberness. With a genuine expression, Obi-Wan shared.
"It's good to see you again." Obi-Wan leaned back, a playful glint in his eyes as he inquired, "How long are you home for?" Cressida's initial radiant smile underwent a subtle transformation, burdened by unspoken secrets and hidden sorrows—layers she couldn't unveil, not even to him.
"I managed to delay my next assignment until after Qui-Gon's pyre," she answered, her tone suggesting a reluctance to delve into the topic. The gesture was kind, and Obi-Wan understood it wasn't solely for him. Qui-Gon had played a pivotal role in Cressida's life, especially after the death of her own master, Deva L’Rue. She had always spoken of Qui-Gon's kind eyes and the warmth that could dispel even the coldest nights. "I wanted to be here for him, to say goodbye, and I wanted to see you."
“I didn’t see you there.”
“No, you wouldn’t. Would you?” She replied in a shadowy tone, a hint of a smirk.
It wasn't the wisest question, and deep down, Obi-Wan was aware of that fact. Still, he couldn't resist the urge to inquire about Cressida's next destination. Her response was met with a quiet, contemplative look, revealing nothing more than the simple truth that she would depart come morning. The weight of her impending departure struck him, but what she revealed next hit even harder.
With an expression bathed with pain, she uttered words that sent a shiver through him:
"I can't tell you where I'm going, but if you see me, you must act as though I'm a stranger. It has to be as if I don't exist."
The notion of treating her as though she didn't exist felt almost unbearable, a heavy burden on his heart. The harsh reality sank in – the likelihood of their paths crossing again was slim at best and even if they did, it was likely that she would see him but he wouldn’t see her. Beyond the confines of this room, the prospect of seeing her again seemed distant, and the awareness of this truth was a poignant pang of sadness in his chest.
He would miss the warmth of her smile, the shared pranks that brought laughter, and the stories they wove together – moments that were uniquely theirs. As the impending farewell loomed, Obi-Wan grappled with the ache of knowing he would never experience those cherished connections again. The sorrow cut deep, akin to the pain of losing Master Qui-Gon.
Qui-Gon was gone, one with the Force, while Cressida would remain alive but lost to him, existing in a realm unreachable. And that was somehow much worse.
"Promise me you’ll be safe and you won’t give in to the darkness," Obi-Wan pleaded, his voice a gentle yet earnest melody, woven with a hint of vulnerability that only those close to him could discern. He was aware of the apparent futility of such a request, but the weight of his concern overpowered any logical restraint.
“Only fools make promises they can’t keep,” Cressida replied, her words resonating in the air like a melancholic melody. The truth within her response bore a potent sting, emphasizing the harsh reality they faced. “But I won’t go down without a fight.”
She wanted to tell him not to forget her, but that would defeat the purpose – she needed to be forgotten. A mere rumor, a hint of deja vu at best and just as easily brushed aside.
Her eyes, brimming with unspoken feelings, quickly blinked against the ambient light. A hasty attempt to shield herself from the approaching sadness as she shifted her gaze toward the door. Leaving now seemed the smart choice, a way to dodge any further pain they might endure.
Following the sensible choice, she slowly rose to her feet, facing Obi-Wan with a mixture of longing and sorrow. Silently, she wished to conjure words that could make their impending farewell more bearable, knowing deep down that no verbal solace existed for such heartache. As she prepared to take her leave, Obi-Wan's hand shot out, enveloping hers in a desperate grip. His eyes, once again shrouded in darkness and fragility, conveyed a plea that transcended mere words.
“Cress!” She froze looking at the death grip he had on her hand.
“I know it’s silly, that it’s selfish, but I’m not ready to go out there, yet.” His voice echoed with a genuine urgency, a plea for a reprieve from the impending separation. "Stay for a while longer, please,"
The vulnerability in his gaze exposing the depth of his need for companionship amidst the storm of emotions. In response, she nodded, acquiescing, and settled back into her seat. It would be fair to say she did it for him, but in truth she sat back down for her sake too. More than content to spend some more time by his side.
As they rested side by side, she laid her head on his shoulder, their hands clasped together naturally, fingers not quite lacing, and a tranquility enveloped them.
An unspoken change seemed to occur between them, a subtle shift in their connection that lingered in the air for the past two hours. They both sensed it but couldn't quite grasp its nature or how to address it, then there was also the possibility that it didn’t need addressing. Some things could simply be.
He couldn’t envision a world where if he saw her, he could say nothing, do nothing, one where he would have to simply watch her go. The weight of the thought was unbearable.
“I’m going to miss our conversations,” Obi-Wan murmured, she nodded, responding with a despondent "me too."
Obi-Wan looked down at Cressida, his thoughts meandering in the silence. Her padawan braid too, was absent yet he wasn’t sure he’d ever be used to it, he followed the path it once took intertwined with the rest of her hair. The strands cascaded freely around her shoulders, a departure from the neatly woven braid she usually wore.
“You–,”
He wasn't sure why he suddenly intended to express his amazement at her beauty, but he halted mid-sentence, realizing the danger of his words. A subtle smile played on her lips as she reached up to the spot where his padawan braid used to be, giving the short strands a playful tug; it was far less effective. He was going to leave a trail of broken hearts across the galaxy, starting with hers.
“Are you afraid?”
She replied softly, almost reluctantly, “Yes,” her voice carrying a vulnerability that echoed in the dimly lit room. She continued, “The thought of being on my own for the first time, truly on my own—it feels like standing on the edge of the galaxy, facing something vast and unknown. And I feel like I’m a Padawan again, and it all feels suffocating.” With those words, she pulled her knees up onto the bed, cradling them close to her chest.
His heart ached, and without hesitation, he lifted his arm, wrapping it around her shoulders. In the solace of that embrace, she curled into him, inhaling deeply.
The fabric of his robes carried the same scent — a gentle blend of soft linen, reminiscent of incense wafting through the temple corridors, intertwined with the faint aroma of propulsion engines humming from passing ships. It was an olfactory symphony that felt like home.
She tried not to think about how much she would miss that smell.
“I’ll miss your smile and your jokes,” She murmured, punctuating her words with a gentle tap on his nose, coaxing forth that familiar, brilliant smile.
“I’ll miss your wit; delightfully dry but very warm and forgiving at the same time,”
Goodbye was inevitable, a looming storm on the horizon, and with each passing moment, they only delayed the impending downpour of pain. Obi-Wan felt the weight of the parting settling on his shoulders, sorrow he wished to stave off for just a little longer, he wasn’t ready. Not yet.
As if the word ‘yet’ could somehow serve as a buffer against the stark reality that awaited them.
Nestled comfortably in the circle of his embrace, she seemed so small, her knees drawn up to her chest, seeking solace within the haven of his arms. Sensing his lingering gaze, she looked up, and like a force beyond their control, a magnetic pull drew them closer. Their foreheads meeting, creating an intimate cocoon, noses brushing against each other in shared breaths that spoke of the intimacy they sought to prolong.
A gentle current passed between them, weaving an unseen thread that pulled them closer still, until a delicate adjustment on both their ends, saw their lips just barely brushing. In that fragile moment, a final delicate tilt led to a soft collision of lips—a kiss so tender it felt like a mere, featherlight caress, leaving behind a tingling sensation.
The fragile nature of the kiss spoke volumes, leaving a stillness in the room. After the span of a heartbeat, as if testing the waters.
Over the span of two years since their last encounter, Obi-Wan underwent a metamorphosis, elevating him beyond mere roguish charm to undeniably handsome. His essence, once a portrayal of youthful exuberance, had undergone a nuanced evolution that she almost missed. It was like revisiting a piece of art after a few years and seeing it in a new light, where new brushstrokes and colors revealed themselves, now discernible to a more mature gaze.
A strength now emanated from him, his shoulders broad and commanding, bearing the weight of accumulated experience and a more defined muscular frame. His jawline, once soft and smooth, had become chiseled and shadowed by a hint of stubble—a departure from the meticulous grooming of his earlier days. Even the hand clasping hers was marked by the disciplined use of a lightsaber, now carried a seasoned ruggedness, evidence of a weapon wielded not just in defense but in the heat of anger.
At the same time, beside him, the quiet symphony of the last two years unfolded, reminiscent of a familiar melody with newfound nuances to savor. The auburn cascade of her hair had departed from its habitual braid, flowing freely around her shoulders, appearing longer, darker, and richer. Her eyes, once vivid and expressive, now seemed stormier and grayer than usual, as if they already held the weight of countless secrets. They mirrored the tumult within, adding a layer of complexity to the evolving beauty that captivated his gaze. The subtle coral tint of her lips whispered an understated allure, and as his focus shifted, he traced the delicate curve of her neck. No longer possessing the innocence of a teenage girl, her form embraced the grace of womanhood. Soft curves delicately outlining an hourglass silhouette.
They leaned in again. This time, slightly firmer, the tingling sensation less intense but replaced by a growing warmth that enveloped them. Instead of breaking apart, they remained, savoring the connection.
Something shifted in the air when their lips met a third time, it wasn't a fleeting brush; it was a deliberate connection, a subtle acknowledgment of the emotions swirling around them.
As the older of the two Jedi, it perhaps fell into the scope of Obi-Wan’s responsibility to remind them both of their commitment to the Jedi Code and how what this was quickly becoming was drifting into a very gray territory. But he didn’t. All reason, logic and common sense demanded that he take his hands off Cressida, remind her of their ideals, wish her well and send her on her way, knowing he’d never to see her again.
Yet, he couldn't do it. He didn’t want to.
He hadn’t felt good in weeks and a stubborn resolve settled in, hadn’t they both been through enough to warrant just this one little indulgence? It would be their secret. He trusted Cressida to keep it.
Similar meetings and rendezvous between other Jedi were commonplace, this was no different, except somehow it was different. Words were unnecessary, but the very essence of their longstanding relationship teetered on the edge of transformation and neither seemed bothered by it.
"Never again," He whispered, his voice a soft caress that barely concealed the lingering uncertainty. They hovered on the precipice, lips nearly touching, both craving more, her face briefly contorted in confusion. "Do you agree? Beyond these walls, who knows if our paths will ever cross again?"
Her response was a hesitant nod, understanding what he was alluding to. "Even if they did, we couldn’t reach out to one another."
"Exactly," he exhaled, a sigh of relief that carried warmth, the atmosphere around them deepening like a smoldering ember.
"Your journey leads to Anakin." Cressida murmured, attuned to the subtle signals he conveyed. She dared another brush of lips, and he didn't pull away, in fact his arm around her shoulders drew her in more.
"And you'll serve the Council of First Knowledge in the shadows," Their coded responses granting them permission to explore the yearning that lingered between them.
"The Council doesn't explicitly prohibit physical connections," Her lips hovering just shy of his but aching to touch his again. "Only attachments."
This was dangerous, what they were saying, what they were doing, but it wasn't completely unreasonable. The idea hung in the air and they weren’t the first Jedi to entertain it, a place where physical closeness could happen without deeply connecting the soul—a tacit understanding within the Jedi Order, shared but unacknowledged.
"Only attachments,"
"We wouldn't be the first Jedi to—" Her sentence was lost beneath the weight of his more assertive kiss, his calloused hand cradling the gentle curve of her neck.
"And certainly not the last," he declared with more confidence, inviting a deeper exploration with the soft, lingering brush of his tongue against her lips.
"I have until morning,"
The ticking clock, counting down to their inevitable parting, stirred a quiet desperation in Obi-Wan. Sensing her already leaning into his touch, a gentle nudge on her back prompted a fluid response — she swiftly climbed into his lap, fingers weaving up his chest and twining around his neck.
Left with only a precious few hours, a fleeting pocket of time, really, it wasn't enough to satiate their hunger for each other's presence, but it would suffice. They both craved a deeper connection, a touch that went beyond the ordinary. While neither was inexperienced in the realm of sexuality, this felt new, an intimate bond unlike anything before. And who better for this exploration? Bound by years of friendship and deep trust, they offered a comfort the other could find nowhere else.
He led her into another kiss, skipping all subtleties, coaxing her mouth open to him with the finesse of a skilled lover. It wasn't reserved or ambiguous; it was a bold manifestation of touch-starved desires; a profound need etched in every shared breath.
Cradled in Obi-Wan's lap as if it were her rightful place, her fingers ran through his hair while their mouths engaged in a dance, relishing every tender touch of lips and the caress of tongues. The lingering taste of chocolate resurfaced in waves, weaving throughout the kiss with every roll of their tongues against one another, adding a layer of sweetness. This shared flavor, this secret bond, forged in chocolate-laced kisses, would resurface in their memories for years to come, whenever the taste or scent danced across their palettes.
Suddenly captivated by the allure that she possessed, painted in this new light as a lover. An unexpected yearning welled up within him, blending seamlessly with a growing desire that defied his initial expectations. The sight of her in this intimate moment no longer felt unfamiliar; it flowed as a natural progression in the intricate dance of their evolving relationship.
As his hand firmly pressed against the curve of her hip, drawing her into a closer embrace, the ambient temperature in the room seemed to escalate, creating an almost stifling warmth. The weight of his Jedi robes, once a symbol of order and duty, now felt burdensome and confining in the charged atmosphere.
A subtle exhale escaped him, a sigh of relief, as her skilled hands navigated the labyrinth of intricate knots, ties, and fastenings that held the layers of his attire together. Guided by a well-practiced muscle memory, her fingers moved with a nimble precision, each deliberate motion filled with a growing sense of urgency. The anticipation hummed in the air, creating an electrifying tension that resonated through every touch. The soft sounds of loosened fabric rustling in the room, adding a tactile rhythm to the charged atmosphere. It was as if the very act of undressing became a dance, a prelude to an intimate connection that transcended the boundaries of their usual roles.
But the soft click of his lightsaber clasp being freed of his belt resonated like a branch snapping. It found its place on a nearby table, guided gracefully by the unseen hand of the Force. As their lips briefly parted, their eyes met, silently probing for any flicker of hesitation or doubt. It was like a suspended dance, each metallic sound echoing the unspoken question lingering in the air. With nothing but the soft click of Obi-Wan's saber belt filling the space, it felt like an unspoken conversation happening amidst the sounds of undressing, each click asking, ‘Are we sure about this?’
The realization hit her that this wasn’t some fleeting or faceless lover; it was Obi-Wan. Somehow that knowledge made her more certain than ever, any lingering traces of guilt over the forbidden nature of this physical entanglement and its closeness to the rule regarding attachment faded.
He ceased to be just a trusted friend in that moment; he became a source of warmth, strength, and desire. A physical presence she craved, one who could offer not just comfort but also pleasure.
The ever-present storms swirling within Cressida's gaze were now tranquil and gentle, while the crystalline blue of Obi-Wan's eyes remained unwavering, shimmering with contentment and serenity. They both knew there was no turning back, and strangely, it brought them peace.
With the belt absent, his tunic hung looser, now unrestrained, her delicate hands made their way up the expanse of his chest. With a final tug, the linen fabric slipped off his shoulders, fluttering lifelessly to join the discarded belt.
Her eyes first traversed the canvas of Obi-Wan's body, starting from their shared eye contact before drifting down the length of his neck to his collar and the smooth expanse of his chest, and down his stomach. Appreciating the unblemished contours that spoke of youth and untarnished strength. Unmarred by the scars time would imbue on him. It was a captivating display of vitality, the hard, well-defined lines held her attention, ultimately leading her gaze down to the laces of his trousers.
Her fingers, possessed by a tactile curiosity of their own, followed the path her eyes had taken, eliciting a subtle reaction from Obi-Wan's muscles flexing under her touch. She followed the soft trail of light-colored hair that descended into his trousers, this Obi-Wan was different from the one she had known in her youth. He had transcended the realm of being just a boy, a mere padawan; now before her as a man, a Jedi Knight. These titles, only mere words, were devoid of meaning in the grand scheme of the cosmos, somehow only made her want him more.
Despite the years of their enduring friendship, she had never seen him out of his robes, never witnessed him in any state of undress. The revelation of his robust physical form unfolded before her like a long-awaited revelation, and it wasn’t an exaggeration to say that she found herself momentarily captivated by the sight before her.
The self-assured essence of Obi-Wan's renowned smirk subtly resurfaced with the slightest upturn of his lips. In that brief pause, he basked in the way she gazed at him. He knew he shouldn’t be vain, but he couldn't deny the satisfaction derived from witnessing her captivated stare.
With a tender encouragement, he drew her into another kiss, skillfully navigating past her lips with a practiced ease. His mouth moving against hers, slanting in a hungry kiss that savored every trace of sweetness he could find. Cressida's soft breathing played like a sweet melody, her constant featherlight touches and caresses along his neck and sternum, sent goosebumps racing across his skin, prompting a delightful murmur of contentment through his lips to hers. Studying his reactions and adjusting her approach accordingly, growing bolder and uninhibited, from soft, and ticklish that made him shudder, to the light sting of her nails leaving red lines down his stomach, each touch elicited a distinct response.
In lives dedicated to serving the galaxy, such indulgences were rare and often frowned upon, sacrifices made in the pursuit of duty. Yet, in this intimate moment, a different kind of service unfolded—one that went beyond expectations and quieted lingering doubts. A service to each other.
The weight of a single kiss was minuscule but as they grew more passionate and more frequent, they began to build up and Obi-Wan’s body responded. He gave a groan when a smooth rock of Cressida’s hips against this growing erection made him painfully aware of just how much of an effect they were having on one another.
His breath hitched at her touch, and his lips trembled, as if holding back unspoken words. Disengaging from the kiss, he circled his arm around her thigh while the other secured her lower back. With a seamless motion, he executed a flip, reversing their positions. As Cressida descended into the bed, Obi-Wan now loomed over her. His arms formed a cage on either side of her head, locked in place as he sank down for another kiss.
A deep, guttural sound escaped him as she skillfully wrapped her leg around his hips, drawing him in with a subtle and inviting roll. The ease with which she moved, exuding an innate intimacy, took him by surprise, as if they shared the familiarity of long-term lovers rather than the reality of their connection. An urgent energy coursed through both of them, and he sensed her fingers eagerly seeking the laces of his trousers.
Smirking against her lips, he left a lingering kiss before straightening up at the foot of the bed. He found amusement and intrigue in her slightly tousled appearance, paying particular attention to the way her gaze remained fixated not on his face but on the skilled movements of his hands as he worked on the laces of his trousers.
His fingers moved with a practiced grace, effortlessly unraveling the familiar knots while keeping his gaze locked onto hers. The air around them crackled with an electric charge, a mix of desire and a playful spark that danced between them. With the laces loose, he worked off his boots, each soft thud adding to the rhythm of their shared moment.
Obi-Wan's eyes held a fiery intensity, a playful smile playing on his lips. The way he looked at her, coupled with the easy progression of their actions, made everything feel just right.
She moved to the end of the bed, on her knees, bringing her only to align herself with the level of his chest, her fingers blazing a tantalizing path that stirred a visceral response, each touch sending shivers through him. When she cupped his erection through the fabric of his trousers, the room hummed with intense energy as his hips instinctively responded, rocking into her hand, finding pleasure in the firm petting, moving in tandem with the deliberate, unhurried rhythm of her caresses.
His eyes drifted shut in contentment as he felt a soft guiding pull on his trousers, coaxing him forward. He complied without hesitation, moving until one knee brushed against the mattress edge taking some of his weight, lowering himself slightly.
He surrendered to the sensations her caresses evoked, a ripple of pleasure surged through his body. His hips moved instinctually, pressing into the warmth of her palm, seeking out the pressure that sparked such intense delight.
With a gentle but insistent tug, his trousers gave way, the cool kiss of air against his heated skin contrasted with the warmth of her touch. Her fingers wrapped around him firmly, their steeliness belying the tenderness within her grasp, and from his parted lips escaped an involuntary exhale, sharp and laden with relief and want.
He watched her through half-lidded eyes as she began to slowly stroke him. Exploring him with purpose, each touch an experiment, an objective to learn what he liked, studying the language of his body. With a steadying breath, Obi-Wan reached down to overlay her hand with his own. His touch, suggesting rather than demanding, teaching her a rhythm that he liked—slow, but firm purposeful strokes that coaxed forth waves of pleasure.
His world narrowed to the slide of her skin against his, the pressure of her fingers, a tide of bliss rose within him, cresting with each deliberate caress, and his head fell back. His grip on her hand relaxed, arm descending heavily to his side.
“Yes, like that,” He breathed out, his voice barely a whisper thick with desire, accompanied by gentle breaths escaping in relaxed huffs.
She paused, just for a moment, to take in the sight before her. His chest rose and fell with a languid ease, the tension that had once claimed his shoulders now dissipated into the ether. Her gaze traveled across his handsome features softened in bliss, the arch of relaxation that bowed his brow, the serene slope of his cheeks, and the gentle parting of lips.
Bringing him pleasure filled her with profound satisfaction, to see him so undone. Completely relaxed and unburdened, knowing she was the reason for it, felt more rewarding than any thought of climax. She craved more of this power over his state of being, desiring to keep him in serenity and pleasure, wanting to make the most of it before their time ran out.
A sharper inhalation escaped him, replaced by a low groan as Cressida embarked on a heated journey down his stomach, mapping every contour and ridge of muscle, each press of her lips a deeper etch into the canvas of his body. A crescendo of sensation built as she explored him, teeth grazing his flesh in love bites that spoke of primal urges and the craving to claim and be claimed.
“Cress…”
Her lips left a trail pulsating with cosmic energy, fingers, attuned to the unspoken cues he'd shown her, continued to stroke him, causing his cock to throb under her skilled touch. Pearlescent precum beaded at the tip, a temptation she couldn't resist. With the pad of her thumb, she smeared the slick essence in lazy circles around the crown, her movements deliberate and languid. The sound that escaped Obi-Wan was pure pleasure—raw and unrestrained—as her thumb moved in a hypnotic dance, spreading the liquid fire that seeped from him.
As the circle of her thumb continued its leisurely glide over his sensitive flesh, he leaned into it, his chest heaved in deep and shaky breaths, the rhythm of his breaths growing erratic. He let loose a deep groan and gasp when she sank onto the bed and her lips closed over his weeping tip. The depth of the warmth of her mouth was a velvet glove around his length. Her tongue painted strokes of sheer pleasure with every swirl, causing many a deep stumbling moan and a visible shudder rippled across his entire being.
Her movements were unhurried, each lap of her tongue against him, coaxing forth more of his essence which she greeted with eager acceptance. With each inch she took in, she paused, allowing him to feel the heat, the moisture, the snug embrace of her mouth before retreating and returning with equal fervor. Obi-Wan's fingers twitched at his sides, slowly finding their way to thread through Cressida's auburn hair, gently tugging with each pulse of desire that shot through him.
The rhythmic movement of her head drew him deeper into a haze, his hips canting forward in an involuntary plea for more of her enveloping warmth. Taking what she could, but unable to swallow him completely, but what she couldn’t, her hands continued to stroke, caress and squeeze. He felt like he was falling into a thick fog, as he met the back of her throat and he moaned as she pressed a bit further.
She indulged him offering soft, sweet, indulgent suckles, lapping up more of the substance as it dripped from his cock. Lavishing attention on him, taking more of him into her mouth, basking in his ungentlemanly moans, making sure to leave no part of him unpleasured.
The vibrations from a moan—it was unclear whose—sent electrifying shockwaves through him. The blissful wet warmth of her mouth enveloping the length of his shaft, the soft flick of her tongue over his slit swirling, tasting. The instinctive thrusts of his hips, coupled with the crescendo of his thundering heart rate and hurried breathing signaled the rapid approach of an uncontrolled descent into pleasure. The precipice loomed, a sweet descent into abandon, and he edged ever closer, a hair's breadth from falling into oblivion.
He released her hair, his palm cradled her jaw, a silent signal that stalled the rhythm of their intimate dance. With a gentle insistence, he coaxed his hips away from the seductive embers of her mouth, refusing to be a selfish lover.
Gasping softly, Cressida lifted her gaze, her breath a warm caress against his sensitized skin. Her lips, glistening with saliva, parted slightly as Obi-Wan's thumb traced the soft curve with a painter’s precision. A faint shake of his head, subtle but meaningful, conveyed his message clearer than any word could: this was about them, not just him. She kissed his thumb, her teeth captured the pad gently, while her tongue played a teasing game, flicking over it with a playful intimacy that tested his resolve.
"Enough," he whispered, the word barely a breath yet heavy with intent. Obi-Wan's hands were tender as they guided Cressida in one fluid motion, she was on her feet, caught within the circle of his arms.
The kiss came without hesitation, fiery and demanding leaving no room for restraint. As the kiss deepened, Obi-Wan began a descent of passion along her neck, the warmth of his breath acting like a narcotic, bringing about a pleasant haze.
Each kiss was like a starburst, its heat searing her sensitized skin, leaving behind a trail of stardust. Her head tilted back, offering him more space to explore, to claim.
“You’ll bring a man to his knees with that mouth,” he murmured into the crook of her neck. The vibrations of his voice tickled her flesh, sending waves of anticipation through her core.
His lips found her pulse, latching onto the rhythm that hammered beneath her skin—a testament to the arousal coursing through her veins. It was a moment of surrender, of giving in to the torrential pull between them, and she could only clutch at his shoulders, grounded only by his strong embrace and the relentless pursuit of his mouth against her neck.
"Need these off," he murmured, his voice low and husky, eyes glinting with desire as they took in the unfamiliar sight of her clothing - an unusual departure from the usual Jedi robes.
The utilitarian style of her outfit, he thought, would have blended perfectly with the crowd outside of the temple, a far cry from the typical aesthetic within these hallowed halls. It hugged her figure elegantly; it molded against her curves, accentuating her feminine form. He couldn't help but admire how well it highlighted every enticing aspect of her physique.
His heart raced in anticipation of what lay beneath. As their lips met in a heated kiss, his fingers trailed down her back, feeling the soft fabric of her camisole, pulling the garment off over her head before his own hands roamed freely over her bare skin. He reveled in the contrast between her delicate form and his rough hands, savoring every moment of skin-on-skin contact. The discarded camisole joined the pile of clothes scattered on the floor, forgotten in their passion.
As his fingers traced along her body, he marveled at the softness of her curves, a stark contrast to the sharp edges and defined muscles he was used to. He explored every inch of her, from the gentle rise of her breasts to the smooth expanse of her stomach and the small dip of her navel. Every curve and contour entranced him as he moved lower, relishing in the feel of her under his touch.
While the visual allure had been captivating, Obi-Wan desired more than mere sight; he craved an exploration that engaged all five senses. He ushered her onto her back, embracing the softness of the bed, and for a minute she lay there under his gaze. Until now the sensual exchange of teasing and pleasure had reached its zenith, remaining largely one sided, and now the time for reciprocity had arrived.
His desire burned to taste and savor every inch of her body, an urgent need to dive deeper into their shared passion. Without hesitation, he joined her on the bed, crawling over her and covering her body with his own. Dropping to capture her lips in a searing kiss, opening his mouth to enjoy the lazy, sensual strokes of her tongue.
He blazed a path marked by faint red marks down the hollow of her throat, creating a deliberate descent to accommodate his exploration. Her skin was now completely exposed to him, inviting touch and tasting. Each movement of his lips and tongue was deliberate, making for an enticing descent that only intensified her anticipation. With every kiss and lick, she felt a rush of warmth and desire spread throughout her body. His gentle caresses were like sparks of electricity, igniting passion within her. The taste of her skin lingered on his lips, drawing him in with its sweetness and addictiveness. She trembled with pleasure at his touch, yearning for more of his skillful exploration.
With a sense of familiarity born from past experiences, he moved lower, his mouth finding the swell of her breast in a delicate dance. The sound of her breath quickened and her body arched in response to his attentions. Emboldened by her reactions, he proceeded with purpose and skill, exploring every inch of her skin with his lips and tongue. Each gentle suction on her nipple sent waves of pleasure crashing through her body, causing her mind to short-circuit in pure bliss.
She couldn't even finish saying his name before he was kissing and teasing his way down the plane of her stomach. A roguish glint danced in his eyes as he surveyed the damp trail his mouth had left on her skin, before trailing his tongue just above the waistband of her trousers. Locking gazes for a lingering moment, he blew a soft breath against the damp skin, reveling in the sight of goosebumps rising on her flushed skin. The intensity between them continued to grow as they explored each other's bodies with reckless abandon
“Obi-”
A smirk played on his lips. His fingers curled around the leather of her boot, tugging it off and flinging it carelessly over his shoulder. The sound of impact echoed in the room as the second boot joined its mate against the wall. With a graceful ease, he moved back up the bed towards her. His movements were slow and calculated, like a predator stalking its prey. He reached for her waistband, deftly undoing the clasp and pulling her trousers down her legs. Each inch of skin that was revealed was met with fiery kisses, leaving trails of heat in their wake.
Her skin was warm silk under his palms, “Close your eyes.” His voice sounded different, lower, darker, heavier with lust. Impossible to ignore, so she complied.
The silence between them stretched on, the air thick with tension and anticipation. She could feel his warm breath placing a soft kiss that sent little electric shocks through her skin. Slowly, he made his way up her legs, leaving a trail of kisses along the way - her ankle, knee, thigh, and finally her hip. A shiver ran down her spine as he dipped his tongue into her navel, teasing and tantalizing. She wanted to open her eyes and take in the sight of him, but she resisted, focusing instead on short controlled breaths to maintain some semblance of calmness.
Just when she thought she had found her center again, Obi-Wan shattered it with a fluttering of his eyelids and a tender kiss between her legs. As his tongue traced the seam of her lips, a rush of desire washed over her, melting away any remaining resistance. In that moment, she was completely lost in the sensations he created with each gentle flick and stroke of his tongue.
Her calm broke instantly, her lips parted but not real sound came out right away, only a desperate, mewling cry. His fingers traced delicate patterns along her inner thighs, adding to the sensations created by his skilled tongue. She couldn't control herself, her hips moving against him in search of more pleasure.
Searching for purpose, her hands tangled with the linens, gripping them between her fingers, desperate for something to occupy themselves with. The lines of the sheets granted her mind a momentary easement, their softness offering a tactile anchor. But they were a poor substitute for the warmth of Obi-Wan's skin; she wanted to touch him, her fingers began to cramp from her grip on the linens and she reached for him.
Reveling in the soft texture of Obi-Wan's hair. With a sense of relief, she combed her fingers through the short strands, savoring the sensation of them brushing against her palms. Occasionally, stroking the tips of his ears, eliciting a pleasurable shiver from Obi-Wan. He visibly melted into her touch, silently pleading for more of her soothing caress.
The warmth of his breath, the soft wetness of his tongue and the occasional featherlight strokes of his fingers offering exploratory touches over her skin continued to stir up a crucible of competent sensations working towards a boiling point of inevitable pleasure. His pace was lazy and relaxed, offering the same intimate attention she’d given him finding a profound satisfaction in the way she writhed against his mouth and into his touch. Seeking out and easily honing in on that little delicate pearl of nerves he offered gentle licks and wet open mouthed kisses that had her seeing the stars behind closed eyes. She could scarcely breathe, much less barely able to utter a single syllable that didn’t turn into a moan or a whimper, speech was simply impossible under Obi-Wan’s ministrations.
Her gentle caresses of his ears being the only power she had over him, and it was an odd thing that such a simple touch yielded such a reaction. When he stumbled, it was just enough of a lull for her to regain her ability to think and speak, the need in her voice when she called his name, drew his gaze from her weeping pussy.
“Obi-Wan, please.”
He took in deep breaths, his expression focused as if he was deep in thought. It was a side of Obi-Wan she had never seen before, one that seemed to revel in giving pleasure instead of receiving it. She placed her hand around the back of his neck and used just enough pressure to make him abandon what he was doing and sink into her mouth. She couldn't resist the urge to taste his lips, now flavored with her own essence.
His aching desire was evident as his erection brushed against her stomach, causing both of them to shudder with pleasure. He wanted to take her right then and there, but he wasn't sure if she was ready.
"Open your mouth," he whispered, tracing her lips with his fingers and sending shivers down her spine.
She hesitated at his request, but quickly gave in when she saw the concern in his eyes. She grabbed the back of his head and pulled him in for a deep, passionate kiss, savoring the taste of his moan. Her hips rolled against his hard cock, showing him just how much she wanted him.
"It’s alright, I don't need it," she said, taking his finger into her mouth and sucking on it like she had done to his cock not long ago. "I need you."
She sucked gently, feeling him stiffen further against her, an embodiment of their shared longing.
His reaction was immediate; his eyes flared wide, a visceral response to the intimate caress. She felt his chest rise and fall with a heavy breath, his heart racing beneath the warm skin.
With a reluctant shake of his head, as if to dispel the haze of overwhelming arousal, he withdrew his finger from the wet warmth of her mouth. The slick path it traced over her skin was a silent tease, a fleeting promise before dipping lower. His touch was feather-light, barely there, yet enough to elicit shivers of anticipation. Then, with precision and an almost unbearable gentleness, he slipped between her legs, venturing into the heat that beckoned him with unspoken pleas for fulfillment.
"I know," he whispered against the velvet of her lips.
His words were a silken thread weaving through the heightened tension between them, binding her to the moment. She offered no resistance as his index finger slipped inside her, a gasp escaping her lips that was quickly swallowed by his mouth descending upon hers once more. Her back arched instinctively, pressing her closer into the heat of his body as she moaned with burgeoning desire.
The sensation of his thumb drawing lazy circles over her sensitive flesh sent ripples of pleasure coursing through her. Each circle was a promise, each gentle stroke a tease coaxing her toward an edge she was all too eager to tumble over.
His finger was soon joined by another, both moving within her with an intimacy that had her inner muscles clenching around him. It was a gripping sensation, holding him captive just as much as it promised sweet release. He swelled with anticipation, the thought of being enveloped entirely by her warmth stoking the hunger that simmered within him.
"Want you to come undone for me first," he murmured, his voice a husky timbre that vibrated through her. The rhythm he set with his thumb and fingers was unyielding, a steady pace that was relentless in its pursuit of her climax. Each motion pushed her further, her body responding with mounting urgency to the dance they performed together.
"Come for me, Cress," he coaxed, his breath hot against her skin as kisses peppered her neck, her jaw, returning again and again to claim her mouth. The sound of her name on his lips was a catalyst, fueling the fire within her, propelling her toward the precipice she stood upon. His desire was her command, and she could no more stop the oncoming storm than she could cease the beating of her own heart.
Obi-Wan's breath hitched in his throat, a shudder rippling through him as Cressida arched beneath the attentive ministrations of his hand. With each tender caress, she writhed, her body singing a symphony of pleasure that resonated in the stillness of the room. Her whimpers and moans filled the air, the sweet sounds of surrender mingling with the rhythmic creak of the bed. Shocks of delight traced the pathways of her nerves, her every muscle tensing and releasing in euphoric waves.
As the crescendo of her ecstasy ebbed, she lay quivering beneath his touch—a testament to the depths of pleasure he had coaxed from the core of her being. Her chest rose and fell with the heavy breaths of satisfaction, eyes glazed with an afterglow that spoke more than words ever could.
With only a hint of encouragement, she reached for the fastening of his trousers—an eager accomplice in their mutual undressing. The fabric whispered against his skin as she peeled it away, casting it aside without care. They lay forgotten on the floor, a casualty of their fervent desire.
“You’re so beautiful,”
He’d refrained from the comment earlier, feeling it would only make things harder but at this point it was irrelevant, the pain would come later, for now they would relish in the pleasure as long as it was theirs to claim. For a moment they hesitated but not from fear, not from nervousness, there was just a gentle lull that passed between them. There was peace, warmth and closeness. A subtle shift, a tender adjustment, and Cressida's leg draped over his waist, the gesture as inviting as the crescent moon's arch. It was all the encouragement he needed. Obi-Wan's resolve crumbled like ancient ruins under the caress of time, his hips descending to meet hers with deliberate care.
Cressida's breath caught as Obi-Wan stilled within her, his body taut with restraint. It hadn’t been so long that the sensation was marred by discomfort; rather, it was the realization that Obi-Wan — this man who had been her friend, at times her protector, her unexpected source of solace — was now her lover.
A shared silence hung heavy as he allowed the tremors that wracked her form to ebb away, leaving in their wake a raw openness she had never before experienced. His gaze locked with hers, a silent question lingering within the depths of his eyes, seeking permission to continue this dance of passion.
With a subtle shift of her hips, Cressida answered him more eloquently than words ever could; a silent plea for more, urging him on. He pulled back, only to rock into her again with a slow, deliberate motion that spoke volumes of his control
“Kriff!” He’d never heard her swear before the harsh sound made his cock twitch in response.
Seeking her mouth again, he set a slow rhythm, a little too slow for Cressida’s liking and she tried to nudge him into a faster pace but he resisted, instead compromising by punctuating his thrusts with a bit more force. This seemed to satisfy Cressida and she purred his name, laying siege to his exposed neck, taking care not to leave any marks that would send tongues wagging but also strong enough to leave a lasting impression.
“Cress, let me kiss you.” The neediness in his voice accompanied by his deeper thrusts, prompted her to abandon her pursuits on his skin and she embraced his mouth instead, wrapping her arms around his neck.
The bed gave a subtle creak but neither noticed it, the room filled with murmurs and desperate breaths in between kisses. There were no barriers between them, physical or otherwise and as the warmth of his skin radiated onto hers, she saw something no one else did.
And there he was—Obi-Wan the man—stripped of the Jedi mantle that cloaked his humanity.
Warm, soft, tender, sensual, a bit on the aggressive side but that suited her just fine, every rock of his hips forward saw a wealth of pleasure surging forward as powerful as the force itself and she felt like in that moment with their bodies joined, she could move the very alignment of the planets themselves.
It had always been of the hard and fast nature with her other lovers but with Obi-Wan, it felt like the force was speaking to her, telling her to slow down and what kind of fool argues with the Force itself?
She wrapped her legs around him and held him back with a little bit of pressure on his hips, stalling his rhythm.
A softer kiss much like their first seemed to hold his attention and allay his confusion, and when she gave a gentle shove on his chest, he didn’t fight it, falling over onto his side then rolling to his back. Cushioned against the pillow he lay there looking up, letting his breathing even out, she resumed the position he’d held over her, straddling his hips, fingers gliding up his chest, to his lips. Greater than any piece of art that any museum could ever hold, she wanted to enjoy him from this superior angle.
His lips parted maybe to speak, maybe not but the featherlight touch of her fingers over them stopped any potential words, his tongue darted out to wet his lips and to put a stop to the maddening tingling sensation she was creating as it was growing to be too much. She shushed him gently and kissed her way up his chest taking all the time she wanted.
The Jedi were not just mere followers of the Force; they were its devout servants. Their strict code governed every aspect of their lives, from their daily habits to their relationships and even their capacity for joy. However, there was one area that the Jedi Council had overlooked: intimacy. Despite the Council's decrees on denying oneself such physical connections, the Force still spoke through this sacred act of creation. She felt no remorse for giving in, as she knew the will of the Force was greater than any man-made rules.
She closed her eyes and reached for his temple creating a physical bond to strengthen what they were sharing, he at first seemed confused by her actions but with a quick adjustment of their positions, she sank down on him. And a surge of something washed over him, more than sex, more than pleasure, more than a bond or a mental connection. Wanting him to experience what she was and the way his eyes went wide saw her intention met. She began a soft rock of her hips and his eyes fluttered closed, letting this new experience take over him. Letting it permeate every inch of his body, all the way down to his bones, he lay content and at peace in tune with the cosmic thrumming of the universe until she broke contact.
He opened his eyes and looked up at her as though he’d seen the soul of force itself, like for the briefest moment he’d held all the answers and all the questions ever possible to behold. He smiled and rested his hands on her hips urging her to move a little more, and she did. Raising herself up slowly before easing back down, his chest rumbled with a groan. This slow sensual pace was perfect, hitting places deep within her, she swayed slightly each time she sank back down on him, and he began thrusting upwards, refusing to close his eyes, not wanting to miss a moment of what he was seeing.
The softness of the rising moonlight cast shadows through the room that cloaked Cressida in shadows, perhaps all too fitting of a metaphor for this night and the future. But he pushed past and chose to ignore that, instead focusing on what he was seeing, she was beautiful, and even if it was just for the night, those few hours that no one would ever know about; she was his.
The slow pace brought about an appreciation he had overlooked when it came to sex, until now it had been a physical release, a fun one but nothing more. Was this what they called love making? It didn’t make sense, how could that be if there was no love between them? Affection? Yes, certainly. Trust? Implicitly. But love?
No.
He decided not to dwell too deeply on such thoughts and to simply enjoy this, pulling her hips forward with a bit of a jerk and a sharper thrust up, the pace remaining unchanged but punctuated by a bit more force.
He pushed himself into a seated position, spreading his legs to give himself a bit more leverage and wrapping his arms around her, not deterring her rocking hips but to have another kiss and to keep her close. Close enough that he could feel her breath, see the quiver of her lips, pick apart all the shades of gray and ‘almost blue’ in her eyes, close enough to kiss her wherever he wanted. A wayward hand tangled in her hair pulling her mouth against his, swallowing the sound she made when he thrust his hips up sharply. He liked this position, they both held power, he could feel every little jolt of her body, keep her squeezed to him tightly, feel the beat of her heart. It was good but not without its flaws, he could already feel the strain on his back and the ache in his legs but he could hold out for just a little bit longer.
“Obi-Wan…”
She wasn’t aware she'd said his name, not until his movements stilled and he gripped her chin to bring her to look at him. His eyes filled with concern but it was fleeting until he realized his name had been uttered in rapture and it satisfied him to no end.
“Trust me?” She nodded, of course she did.
He held her tightly in his arms as he thrust up, feeling her tightening around him. He could feel himself throbbing with pleasure. A gentle kiss and the caress of their tongues led Obi-Wan to roll them again so they were lying on their sides, with him behind her. Planting kisses on the back of her neck, he brought her leg up over his hip. "Just like this," he guided before slowly sliding back into her warmth, eliciting a groan from both of them. His arms wrapped around her hips, keeping her close as he continued to thrust at this new angle that seemed to bring them both immense pleasure.
“Stars!” She exclaimed.
“I’ll show you the stars, I promise.” His breathy response as he increased his pace, thrusting faster.
“You already have.” She replied, slightly out of breath.
“Close your eyes and see even more.”
Without questioning him or his intentions, she closed her eyes and let Obi-Wan lead them to a perfect climax. Behind her closed eyelids, there were tiny twinkling lights dancing, soft and gentle. When his hand found its way between her legs, those little orbs exploded like bright shooting stars. He grunted as she tightened around him, causing his steady rhythm to falter slightly.
“See them?” He gritted through clenched teeth.
“Show me more!” She demanded.
He nodded against the back of her neck and began thrusting harder and faster, putting all his weight behind each movement and stealing small gasps of air with each one. His hand never stopped its steady stroking, turning those soft orbs of light into blazing supernovas that lit up the darkness they had both been consumed by, driving it away.
His breathing became erratic, and the crushing weight that had been on his shoulders for days seemed to dissipate. He desperately needed one last thing: a final burst of stimulus.
His left hand remained between her legs, determined not to move until she cried out in ecstasy. As his right hand found her temple and he gently bit down on her earlobe, their years of friendship and intense bond bridged the gap between them. With each rhythmic thrust, they faltered again, until the touch of his hand pushed them over the edge and they were enveloped in a cosmic wave of pure bliss. She cried his name, begged him for more, pleaded for him to take her harder, moving in perfect harmony with him as his body spasmed and he too reached the pinnacle of pleasure, calling out her name in guttural cries. His hold on her temple was too much to maintain, and he lost all sense of rhythm.
In one last feat of agility, he shifted their positions while still inside her, looming over her as he drove into her with all his remaining strength. Thrusting wildly, each movement accompanied by her cries echoing through the room. Then, she pulled him into a passionate kiss, their lips and tongues meeting in a messy tangle of desire and need. Finally, as the electric shocks running through his body began to subside, they both collapsed in complete exhaustion.
Her chest heaved, eyes finally opening, the storms calmed into a soft overcast, Obi-Wan’s eyes were devoid of any turmoil, swimming with serenity.
“You’re shaking,” She whispered, he smiled at the observation, as if he could bring himself to stop trembling after that.
“I’ll be fine. Are you alright?” She kissed him deeply, drawing a contented murmur from Obi-wan, he waited for her answer but as the seconds ticked by her lips showed little sign of stopping, moving down his neck. “Cress…”
“I'm fine, Obi-Wan,” she said through gritted teeth, her voice strained with determination.
She met his gaze, her legs wrapping tightly around his as their bodies rolled over in a tangled mess of limbs. Obi-Wan's muscles screamed for relief but he couldn't resist her, his body too weak and exhausted in the aftermath of his climax. He looked at her with burning curiosity, knowing that whatever was to come would push him to his limits.
"Tell me if it's too much," she whispered breathlessly, her fingers digging into his skin.
"If what's too much?" he gasped, already feeling the strain and pain building within him. But he welcomed it, craving the intensity and challenge.
His words were cut off as she slid him out of her heat and moved down his chest, leaving a trail of kisses in her wake. Realization dawned on him when she reached his hips and before he could utter another word, her lips were once again wrapped around his cock. A deep groan rumbled from his chest, a combination of the visual pleasure, the knowledge that she was tasting their combined release, and the tingling sensitivity that clawed at him, rendering him truly speechless.
As she devoured him with her mouth, his eyes rolled back into his head and he couldn't help but moan in ecstasy. The sensation of her velvet lips and insatiable hunger reignited his desire, causing his body to respond once again. His quickly grew hard and thick again, aching for more of her touch.
"We have all night," Cress purred in between licks, her hand expertly stroking his length just as he had shown her earlier. "And I can sleep on the ship."
Her words only fueled his fire, knowing that they could continue this pleasurable torment until the sun rose.
The night blurred into a haze of sex, pleasure, and indulgence that few Jedi spoke of or experienced. Wave after wave of carnal release washed over them, pushing them to the brink of pleasure and beyond. As they embraced each other in the throes of passion, the night disappeared into oblivion.
~~~
Morning's rays crept across the bed, a golden snare that caught Obi-Wan's tired lids and pried them open against their will. A groan escaped his lips as he shifted beneath the sheets, the world outside pressing into the fog of his groggy mind. Muscles that had known countless battles now throbbed with an unfamiliar pain—an intimate ache—each movement igniting a cascade of hyperawareness that rippled across his skin.
For a moment, he lingered in the half-light of dawn, floating on the edge of consciousness. He grappled with the tendrils of sleep, trying to recall the events that led to such soreness, such profound fatigue. But memory was elusive, slipping through his mental grasp like sand through fingers.
His breath hitched as clarity struck, ice water in the veins, and Obi-Wan bolted upright. The room spun briefly before settling into its mundane familiarity: the stoic walls, the simple furnishings—a refuge from a galaxy in turmoil. Yet something was amiss, a disturbance that sent his heart skittering.
He scanned the space, eyes landing with a dull ache on the untouched expanse beside him. The sheets there were cool, meticulously straightened, void of the warmth of another's presence. A pang of loss clutched at Obi-Wan, an echo of the coldness of that vacant place.
His gaze drifted, taking in the tidiness of the room—the orderliness that spoke of solitude. His boots, once haphazardly discarded in the throes of passion, now stood sentinel by the wall. His robes, their folds speaking of careful hands, rested on the chair alongside his lightsaber, a silent guardian within arm's reach.
Silence hung heavy where laughter and whispered confidences should have filled the air. The table, now barren, gave no sign of the shared meal it had hosted—no crumbs, no lingering scent of spice or sweetness. It was as though the night prior had been carefully erased, leaving behind only the tangible tokens of his own existence.
Obi-Wan's throat tightened, the emptiness in the room mirroring the hollow sensation within his chest. Where warmth had been, there was now only the stark reminder of isolation—a contrast as sharp as the blade he wielded. His hands clenched into fists, the ghost of another's touch still haunting his skin, as he faced the day alone.
She was gone.
He lay there for a moment, the weight of her absence settling over him like a shroud. The room seemed to echo with the remnants of their passion, a tangible thing that he could almost reach out and touch. It hadn't been romantic – no, such things were not for Jedi – but it had been real.
Obi-Wan rose and dressed silently, his movements mechanical. His fingers brushed over the spot where her lightsaber had rested, and he wondered if the yellow blade felt as cold and alone as he did now.
Despite everything, he couldn't regret what had transpired. Last night, they had shed their roles and simply existed as two beings seeking solace in one another. There was beauty in that, he thought, and a connection that went beyond the physical.
He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Time to reforge his resolve, to take up the mantle of mentor to Anakin.
But first, he allowed himself one final indulgence – a lingering touch on the pillow where her head had lain, a silent promise to remember the feel of her lips, the sound of her laughter mingling with his own.
Then, just as the first rays of dawn splashed gold across the floor, Obi-Wan Kenobi stepped out into the day. Alone, yet forever altered. He looked out to the rising sun that shed its light over Coruscant and murmured to the stillness knowing she would never hear it.
"May the Force be with you, Cressida."
~~~
Phew! Well, hope that gives you guys a little of what you were looking for and some more insight into Obi-Wan and Cressida's past! If you like this then please feel free to reblog, like, comment, and let me know your thoughts! Alright! Now we can get back to getting these two crazy kids back together! @heyhawtdawgs. @split-spectrum(because you're a fan of the man! I thought you'd like this too!) @pickleprickle @burnthecheshirewitch
You guys are the best cheer readers I could ask for! See you in the next chapter!
#i have too many stories#fanfiction is life#original character#alternate universe#star wars#star wars au#obi wan kenobi#obi wan star wars#obiwan kenobi smut#young obi wan#cressida vox#unbreakable bonds#obi wan had a one night stand#kenobabies#its only right someone got pregnant by that man#obi wan x original character#original female character#force bond#obiwan x original female character#yeah he's definitely my son because i hit that hard back when#hobiwan kenobi#im a ho for this man
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guys VERY important question
#there's only one right answer#i dare you all#akfjjd#obiwan kenobi#obi wan kenobi#the clone wars#star wars#star wars polls
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also this gifset next to images from the kenobi show i just saw is suddenly impressing on me how much plastic surgery ewan mcgregor has gotten. That is NOT his browbone #PutItBack
#always feel creepy for noticing but its a once you see it you can't unsee type of thing. feels like his nose is different also#first film obiwan is the only one who looks right#ewan mcgregor in velvet goldmine you will always be the peak of male beauty to me
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rewatched RotS and when obiwan confronts padme to find out where anakin went (mustafar), even after knowing he desecrated the temple and killed everyone in it, he still tells Padme "he was deceived by a lie - we all were."
#obi wan loves anakin sm#he lying to padme to find out anakins location#hes in shock himself#but still deep down he loves anakin#the truth of his love is scraping desperately at the truth of reality eating one another right then#he says anakin was d e c e i v e d#not just bc hes trying to manipulate padme#but bc obiwan is losing it#he needs to believe anakin was deceived#he n e e d s to#thats the only way it could be true#and obi wan is right!!!!!#anakin was deceived repeatedly#he knows him#he's an ani stan#obikin
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With the Percy Jackson series coming out right now have you ever thought about a Percy Jackson obikin au?
so it’s been soooo long since I’ve read the books and I really haven’t kept up with the show (though everyone has told me it’s very very good!! and it’s on my to-watch list!)
but with my little memory of the series, I’m thinking of an au where anakin is the son of hades (non negotiable) and obi-wan is the son of ___ (I’m torn but I’m thinking some very minor god)
and when anakin’s like 9, he’s at the age where he for real needs to get to camp because monsters are popping up everywhere and obi-wan’s just some 25 yo bystander dude that takes him in and tries to get this kid to safety — he himself has never been to camp and doesn’t know anything about the Greek gods, but he can see the monsters coming after this little boy so if he says he has to get to Long Island then sure, obi-wan will get him there
When they do finally arrive after many harrowing adventures and close calls, anakin absolutely throws a tantrum (featuring skeletons rising from the underworld) when the camp director tells obi-wan he really should go, thank you for delivering the chosen one safely etc etc because obi-wan’s godly parent is a minor god and he’s basically not that powerful of a demigod anyway and minor godly children don’t really have a place at camp. and obi-wans pretty ok with that cause this isn’t his life anyway
but anakin loves him and anakin wants him around and anakin will hide in obi-wan’s car and steal away from camp to stay with him if he does leave because he’s anakin’s now they’ve trauma bonded on their way across country 😡
so obi-wan gets to stay at camp in the big house and as the years pass he actually becomes assistant camp director and gets more and more authority because even though he doesn’t have a big 12 godly parent or whatever, he’s just so damn likable.
19 year old anakin has known this forever he’s thought obiwan was great for more than half his life at this point. The only thing that would make him better is if he gave in to anakins advances and let him kiss him a little.
meanwhile obiwan is comfortable in this world after a decade being in it and comfortable with the rules and with himself but there’s absolutely no way he’s going to incite the wrath of fucking hades himself by giving into the urge to bang his 19 year old kid, who obi-wan has cared for and known since he was a CHILD.
no thank you. He’s seen the destruction of anakin’s tantrums and he’s pretty sure that rage is hereditary
#asks#obikin#pjo au#I think anakin gives off hades kid energy#it was either that or Hephaestus but the whole very powerful big three thing reads more anakin#and if it’s gonna be either hades or Poseidon or Zeus it’s absolutely gonna be hades for mr anakin vader#a straight forward au ?? where is the fun in that#also obiwan totally gets a cool sword he just deserves a cool sword
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Colliding Memories
Clive Rosfield x *Brainwashed* reader (Angst)
Summary: You were about finish off the vulnerable Clive Rosfield, until your head began to hurt and your memories of him started to appear.
Clive Rosfield gif credits: @obiwaned
(Note: Just a heads up, this has nothing to do with the events from the game.)
“(Y/N)! Snap out of it!” Clive parried your attack, he tried to pin you down to the ground so he could face you properly and talk his way into you. You teleported behind him and blasted him away in the distance using the magic of wind. Clive grunted, his body slammed by the wall. You smirked in return, watching him suffer. “Pathetic…”
The King of Waloed seemed to enjoy the performance. Until he grew tired of just standing and watching, Barnabas then joins in the fight and gets surprised by Clive’s attack which he manages to evade easily. The two point their swords at each other and sounds of their blade came clashing on like a powerful storm.
You heard the dominant of Shiva coming your way and swung your dual blades to Jill’s rapier sword who failed to land a strike on you, “Please, (Y/n), don’t do this!” ignoring her words, you knocked the rapier off her hand and cast wind magic to blow her away. Jill fell unconscious after getting body slammed to the stonewall.
Joshua sweeps in and fights you after gaining his strength back, “(Y/n), we’re your friends! The only friends you ever had in Rosalith!” he evaded your blows and took a step back, “I have no intention to hurt you but you leave me no choice!” He used the flames of Phoenix, aiming the shots of them towards you. You somersaulted up in the air to avoid the blast. Joshua heads in quickly and thrashes his sword against yours.
Clive, with all his might, desperately attempted to get to you but Lord Barnabas kept getting in the way, preventing Ifrit’s dominant to save (Y/n) by saying the most utter worthless things to put in your head.
“Do you think you can save her, Mythos?” says Barnabas, causing Clive’s anger to explode like a ticking bomb, “Your dear, sweet, little dove will never remember you. So amusing watching you say those ridiculous things to dear (Y/n) who no longer have you in her memory.”
Clive semi-primed into Ifrit and aggressively thrashed his blade towards him. Barnabas dodges and summons his long, dark sword. Pinning the sharp surface against Clive’s Invictus sword. Barnabas plants a smirk across his face, “When this is all over, Mythos, I am going to make (Y/n) (L/n)...” his next words set Clive off, angering him more, “My Queen…the Queen of Waloed…”
“You…YOU FUCKING DEPRAVING BASTARD!” The anger in Clive rises high, turning more violent and aggressive. Landing his fiery blows on Lord Barnabas as the King dodges them swiftly, “Yes, that’s right, Mythos! Let the rage consume you!”
“I AM GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU!” All the rage began to take over Clive, making him more vulnerable for Barnabas to land strong attacks on him.
The King bested Clive, watching him drop weakly to the ground. Barnabas motioned his sword to Clive’s face of defeat, pointing the tip of his blade, “Bow before your king, Clive Rosfield.”
You grabbed the collar of unconscious Joshua’s red shirt, dragging him along as she marches over to Lord Barnabas. You dropped his unmoving body, standing with the King. “(Y/n), my soon to be queen, would you like to do the honours to finish Clive Rosfield in my stead?”
“As you wish, Lord Barnabas.” You unsheathed one of your dual swords with Barnabas taking a step back as he watches you finish off Ifrit’s dominant. “(Y/n), please!” shouted Clive, crawling back in his weak state “(Y/n)...my love…come back to me…”
As you were going to pierce him through the heart with your dual sword, you felt your hand on the sword’s hilt shaking for some reason. Your head began to throb, the pain growing heavier. You screamed in agony causing you to drop your dual sword as you backed away, head down with hands to the sides. “Ah! Ugh…” feeling the pain increasing, you shrieked with your eyes closed looking up to the sky of darkness. It felt more like a cry for help. You drop your head looking to the ground while suffering with headaches.
“(Y/n)? (Y/n)?!” Clive rises up quickly to come and aid you. You pushed him away and sorrowful tears appeared in your eyes. Memories popped up in your head, there were so many of them. Sad, happy memories. Most of them…had Clive Rosfield in it. Remembering the momentous days you spent time with him. The laughs you share together, the happiness and the joy…
You started to remember something that you lost…
“(Y/n)...” Clive called out your name in a calm tone, walking up to you at a slow pace. You slowly held your head up, your eyes focused on him, “C-Clive…”
Finally, you came back to him, “(Y/n)...” Clive swept you in his strong arms, holding you tight in an embrace, “My dear (Y/n)...I knew you were still in there.”
You continued to have your arms wrapped around Clive, remembering the last time you embraced him. “Oh my, this is very touching.” you pulled away from your lover for a moment as Barnabas looked at both of you with a smirk, slipping out his sword, “Never thought this day would come where (Y/n) (L/n) regains her old self. Even her memories.”
“Stay back, my love. I will deal with him.” Clive urges you to step aside, grasping the hilt of his sword and facing towards Barnabas’s direction. “Clive…” you mumbled , saying his name worryingly. You didn’t want to know what would happen next but you just envisioned it anyway. Things are about to get ugly.
“Tell me, Mythos…you think you can protect your precious dove from me?” Barnabas questioned, semi-priming into the dark eikon Odin. His voice goes demonically deep, “Do you truly believe you have all the strength to protect your precious (Y/n)?”
Clive, once again, half transformed into his Ifrit form. The roars of the flames floating all over him, standing his ground, “I will never let you take her away from me again, Barnabas.”
“Come then, Mythos…” Barnabas raising his sword, the sharp point focusing on Clive Rosfield, “Let’s see if you have the power to defeat me.”
And so the two raging dominants clashed on, blades clicking together as they fought like wild beasts in the fight. You just stood there, frozen. Watching them battling against each other.
You thought Clive would win. Barnabas outsmarted him somehow, sweeping him off the ground. “Ugh!” Clive groaned, blood dripping from his mouth. “Clive!” You pulled out your dual sword and rushed to him as quickly as you could.
“It’s over, Mythos!” Barnabas laughed devilishly, levelling his sword mid-air. Planning to kill the love of your life. “Fuck! Am I going to make it in time?!” you thought after realizing how far you are in the distance from them.
As you watched Barnabas in panic who was about to end Clive’s life, you sped up rapidly and made it in time to kill the King. Your dual sword pierced through the chest. Barnabas spat out blood when he was stabbed by you, his hand dropping as his dark sword vanished. Transforming back to his human form. You drew your sword back, stepping away from him. A dying Barnabas twisted in your way, facing you, “Well…I never knew you had it in you…” He crept up to you in his weakened condition. “Get back, you fucking psycho!” you yelled in a threatening tone while walking a few steps back, drawing out your sword at his stone-hardened skin. Clive comes to your side, shielding you from Barnabas.
“You have outdone yourself…(Y/n) (L/n)...” At long last, the King of Waloed is dead. His body dropped, his entire body turning to stone. You let out a sigh, throwing your sword in sorrow. Remembering the horrible things you’ve done.
“(Y/n)..” Clive comforts you, tucking you into his arms, “It’s over now, my love.”
“You’re finally free from him, (Y/n).” A conscious Joshua finally awakened, healed enough to walk over with a small smile appearing on his face. Even Jill recovered her strength, “Welcome back to the real world, (Y/n).” happy tears forming into her eyes, she was so glad that you were back to your normal self.
You hugged Joshua and Jill, crashing them into your arms. Being careful not to squeeze them too tight since they’re still slightly injured. “I’m so sorry…” your voice lowered, tears falling down onto your face.
“It’s okay, (Y/n).” Joshua reassured you.
“It wasn’t you, (Y/n). We both know that it wasn’t you.” Jill spoke in a comforting manner.
You returned to Clive as the two of you nuzzled up to each other, “I miss you, my darling. Thought I would never see you again.” Thinking you were never coming back to him. If you didn’t, he would still be in a very dark place. “I’m here, Clive…Never forget that I will always come back to you..”
Clive moved in closer to kiss you, your eyes shut tight falling into the moment where you circle your arms around him. Jill smiled warmly, seeing the two lovers reunited at last. Joshua chuckled nervously, knowing this was bound to happen. He cleared his throat, gaining the attention from you and Clive, “We should head back to the hideaway and inform the others about what happened here.”
Jill added, “And let’s not forget to tell them that we have (Y/n) back with us. Our long lost dear friend of ours.”
Clive nodded, agreeing with them. He held your hand into his, tightly so he never lets go. His blue eyes shining up on you, “Ready to head home with us, my darling?”
You chuckled, smiling sweetly at your lover, “Let’s get the hell out of this miserable place.”
✩࿐⋆*
(A/n) - Truly sorry for not writing him for A VERY LONG TIME! I hope you all enjoy reading it!
UNTIL NEXT TIME ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ઇଓ
✩࿐⋆*
#final fantasy xvi#ffxvi#final fantasy 16#ff16#clive rosfield#clive rosfield x reader#clive rosfield x you#clive rosfield angst#ffxvi x reader#cliverosfield#cliverosfieldxreader#ffxvi angst#x female reader
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Water and Rock
Chapter 6
Pairings: Obi Wan/FemReader
Warnings/Tags: explicit content, smut (particluarly in this chapter), drug use, dubcon, elements of noncon, mild non-graphic violence, elements of sith!obiwan
Description: There are only so many excuses a master and padawan can make to kiss under "extenuating circumstances" before circumstances stop arising and start being created. You are an expert at your craft - a Jedi knight in service as a spy for the Republic. When your former master Obi Wan joins you on a mission, it's clear things aren't the same as they once were. The trials you face together may break your bond, or turn it into something else entirely.
☆☆☆
The sound of your belt clattering to the floor echoes against the duracrete walls of the cell. His hand is buried in the fabric of your robes, pulling them to the side, and he's kissing you like a force of nature; like the kiss will be the end of you both.
And it will be, and you know it will be, and you're beyond caring.
His hand slips beneath the fabric at last, the feeling of his fingers on your skin making you suck in a breath through your teeth to keep from moaning. His thumb traces over your bare hip, moving up to your back. Then he flattens his hand, pulling it down to your stomach. The tips of his fingers are threatening to finally, finally, drop beneath your waistline and you're unable to resist the urge to squirm, desperately wishing you could reach down and guide his hand where you need it.
But he hesitates, unmoving. You suck in the muscles of your stomach, pulling your body to the side, just to feel some movement - any movement. His hand drags deliciously across your skin, sending shivers all the way up to your neck, but the movement isn't his. It's movement you're manufacturing for him. He's fixed in place, eyes wide and darting over your body like he's not even really present in the room. Like he's watching from a distance, removed from himself.
Slowly, in a way that you could interpret as cruel if you didn't know him well enough to realize he's not intentionally teasing, he leans in to kiss you again. His lips meet yours so tenderly, so softly, that your eyes squeeze shut. It's almost painful to be held so gently by him.
As he brushes his mouth over yours, his hand dips lower. Then he curls his fingers inward, pulling them back. It's as if he's trying to drag his attention away from where his hands are about to go.
You give a soft whine at the denial and he stops kissing you, mouth falling open. He says a word in a language you don't understand, but from his tone and the way he yanks his body away from yours, you can guess it's a curse.
"This is completely wrong."
He pulls away from you, extricating his hand and leaving you burning, alone, and practically trembling. He brings one hand to his chin, stroking it downward, almost seeming to wipe his mouth clean.
He's shaking his head. "I am the one in control, here. You can't move. I must be the one to stop."
Your eyes are drawn to the center of his body. You want to see the evidence against the case he's making, but sadly his tunic is covering everything. Even as impressive as he felt against you, there's no bulge to see when he takes a wide stance.
You shift your hands uncomfortably in the binders, and he looks up at the noise of the chain. You didn't mean to draw his attention to your frustration. Or maybe you did. It's hard to tell anymore.
"What difference does it make?" you ask, trying to mask the desire in your voice by speaking quietly. "We've already broken our oaths, haven’t we?"
He brings his eyes up from the floor and gives you a look that's stern and knowing, and for just a moment he looks like himself again.
"You know the difference," he says in a soft, low tone that shoots straight to your core.
You want him. You've never wanted anything as much as you want him to touch you, right now, looking like that.
"Obi Wan..." you trail off, staring at him.
Stars, he's so perfect... just touch me...
All at once, his eyes lose their coolness. He continues to look at you, determination melting into unabashed lust, and he takes a long, slow blink. He leans into you again. You feel a rising in your chest as he wraps his arms around you and brings his lips to yours, only to halt, achingly close, and pull back with a furrowed brow.
He looks at you. You look at him. When you both realize what's happened, your heart sinks into your stomach.
"Did... you..." he starts to ask, but doesn't finish, just staring, wide-eyed.
You'd tried to mind-trick him. You'd implanted your thoughts into his mind. He'd felt it, and he was strong enough to stop you, even in his state. But you had tried.
"I..." you have no words for the horror you feel at what you'd nearly done. But he interrupts you before you need to go any further.
"This is what I mean. You are not yourself."
"I..." you try again, your head still spinning with the implications of your actions. "I didn't mean to..."
He's still holding you. You're surprised he hasn't pulled away. "I know. You don't mean to do any of this."
His hands are resting lower now, sliding to the small of your back. "This is not what either of us wants. Not really. It's an illusion of the drug. Just focus; try to remember a time before this."
His attempt to soothe you is only making you burn hotter, his voice deep and smooth in your ear. You can't take it.
"That isn't going to work."
"If you just try to remove yourself from..."
"It won't work," you interrupt him, tired of talking and tired of waiting. Your blood is burning and you can hardly wait for him to stop talking so you can feel his lips again.
"How can you say that when you haven't-"
"Because there's never been a time I didn't want you."
His eyes widen for a moment before his brows push together in a tormented look. Then, all at once, he kisses you, and you're lost in a desperate, wanton stretch of whispered groans and dragging teeth.
When he gasps into your neck, "You can't... say... It isn't..."
You simply keep talking over him. You'll say anything to have him like this. "I want you now. I wanted you on Keoth. I wanted you on Pantora."
He lets out a soft, long breath, just beneath your ear. You know you've crossed a line. You're trying to break him, to do anything to keep him touching you. You don't care anymore about what is wrong and what is forbidden.
Pantora was one of the last missions you'd had together as Master and Padawan, before you took the trials at 21. It had almost been Obi Wan's last mission altogether. He had fallen through a crevasse, where his leg had gotten pinned. Your mission team couldn't risk breaking the ice around him, as it could potentially cause an ice shelf to break off and destroy a village below it. He'd had no choice but to painstakingly chisel himself free, and as the only other Jedi on the mission, only you could reach him. No one on the team had ice climbing tools, but you could use the force to jump down to him, and jump back out.
You had spent an entire rotation alone with him, both of you taking turns carefully digging him out, and as the hours passed, you felt more and more devastated by the knowledge that you wouldn't be sharing missions like this anymore; that you'd never be this close again. The stories, the warmth, the intimacy you'd experienced... it was the first time you knew you'd carry your bond with him for the rest of your life. Back then, you'd interpreted the feelings as healthy affection for your Master. Looking back, you could call it what you really knew it was.
This time, when he leans up to kiss you again, you pull on his bottom lip with your teeth, almost digging in. Some part of you wants him to taste the pain you feel when he pulls away. But he doesn't shy away from your bite. He tightens his grip on your waist.
"Touch me," you finally gasp when he parts your lips. "You have to touch me. Please. Please."
You hear your own voice as if it belongs to someone else. You know you're debasing yourself in front of him, but it doesn't matter anymore. You don't care how pitiful you sound when you beg. When he stares back at you, the dim light in the room catching his face at just the angle to illuminate his features, a simple thought fills your mind: You should consider yourself lucky to beg into such beautiful eyes.
He swallows. "Please, don't."
The animalistic part of you that's taken over can't focus on his words; only the way he says them. You can hear his resolve crumbling.
"I... I need it. Anything. Just one touch, just..."
You whimper against his mouth when he closes it over yours.
He pulls back once he's silenced you. "Stop. I can't think with you... like this. You must stop."
You grind your lower half against him. "Fuck. Please. I'm so..."
He's biting his lip, and all at once, he's snaking his hand through your clothes.
Your brows knit together in desperate need, and you stifle a gasp when he makes contact with your skin again.
"Don't stop."
His lashes flutter when you speak, and his hand trails lower while he leans in to kiss your neck. "I'm afraid I'm at a point... beyond stopping. Even if I were to try."
You melt at his words, at first. Then, suddenly, you pull back slightly, using the last of your strength to resist. "I'm not... I wasnt...?"
Fear begins to creep back into your features when it occurs to you what he may be implying. You hadn't felt yourself reaching out in the force. Any attempts at control hadn't been intentional.
You try to read his face, but his expression is unreadable, his eyes glossy. When he sees your reaction, though, he shakes his head.
"No," he says, putting your fears to rest. "No, you weren't."
You let out the breath you'd trapped in your chest.
"And yet..." he goes on. His eyes are dark, his voice thick.
"I can't refuse you."
He captures your lips in a perfectly sweet kiss as his fingers dip below your waist and slip between your legs.
You let your head sink back against your arms, a broken moan ripping out of you. His fingers are even more perfect than you'd imagined - gentle and strong and smooth. He slides further down, to where you're soaking, and when you slick his fingers he lets out a soft sigh, his breath hot against your neck.
He strokes you perfectly, with no urgency, just curious concentration at your body's response to his touch. He pulls back to watch you, his lips slightly parted. His eyes are heavy, lashes flickering up and down as his gaze drags over your face to catch every gasp, every twitch, every movement you make. When his eyes meet yours, he slowly pushes two fingers inside you, holding them there.
You're sure you must have died, because only becoming one with the living force could feel this good.
"Shiiittt..." you sigh, eyes closing, the feeling of him inside you overwhelming all of your senses.
He blows air out softly through the "o" shape of his lips as he curls his fingers and starts to fuck you with them. You can feel his hand getting wetter as he works to build the heat inside you toward detonation. When you open your eyes again, a deep pulse of electricity runs from your center down to your toes. Watching him do this to you, watching him become undone by doing this to you... it's too much. It feels too good. It almost aches.
His fingers - you've seen them so many times, doing so many things. Wrapped around his saber hilt in deadly combat. Writing dilligent notations in his personal manuscripts during late hours in the archive. Straightening the collar of your robe, gently reminding you to present yourself neatly in the temple.
And now they're buried in you, working you steadily and deliciously as you writhe, fucking yourself against his hand.
You moan shamelessly, your hands grasping helplessly up at the ceiling above your head, opening yourself up to him, to whatever he'll give you. He pushes even deeper, hooking the first of his knuckles methodically back toward himself over and over, bringing you closer and closer to oblivion.
You curse again breathlessly, trying to hold yourself at your peak; trying to make it last as long as you can. But he's making it impossible for you.
"Do... do you remember Pantora?" you murmur to him, talking to keep yourself from tipping over the edge.
He misses a beat at the sound of your voice, not answering right away, pumping his fingers a few more times, listening to your breath becoming more and more uneven.
"Of course I remember."
It sends a shiver through you and makes you more bold. Or maybe it's the drug making you bolder. Perhaps both. Either way, you have the courage now to ask a question you never would in your right mind.
"Did... you want me then, too?"
He gazes at you, slowly drawing his fingers out, as if thinking it over, and then slides them back, continuing his curling motion.
"I didn't think of you in... that way, no. You were my Padawan. I saw you as my Padawan. Until-"
He cuts himself off, and you suck in a breath at the word 'until'. You repeat it back to him, questioningly. He pauses again.
"That day in the gardens." His fingers slow. "You always wore your hair up, in braids. The day before you took the trials, we spoke in the garden. And you... wore it down."
You remember the day. "You... noticed."
"I noticed," he says. Then his fingers quicken. "I noticed, and I wanted you. I wanted to touch you, just like this."
The tendons in his wrist clench as he works his fingers steadily inside you, then reaches down, brushing the wet over his thumb and using it to slide over your clit. You jerk and let out a sharp whine at the pressure, feeling like you're about to explode.
"Fuck, don't stop. Oh, stars. Please don't stop."
He groans at your desperation, pulling the arm he's wrapped behind you closer, squeezing your bodies together. "Oh, yes. You like that, don't you?"
No words will form in your mind, only thoughts of the bliss he's sending through every part of you. You nod, mewling through your nose. He slows his movements, sending you spiraling, and you meet his eyes, wondering why.
He curls his lip. "Then, say it."
The words pour out of you at his command, tumbling over your lips, ragged and insistent. You'll say whatever he asks. You'll invent new words if it's what he requires to keep doing this.
"It's so good. Fucking- Ngh- fucking amazing. It's... you're going to make me-"
He strokes you perfectly until your breath hitches and you tumble over the precipice, crying out his name, whimpering and writhing in your chains, pussy twitching around his hand as he draws out your orgasm. You're a shaking mess by the time he finishes with you, leaving his fingers inside while delicately pulls his thumb from your oversensitive clit, your whining gasps telling him you're spent.
When just the two fingers inside you are left, he smirks at you, pulling them out so, so slowly.
"My goodness, we certainly made a mess," he says thoughtfully, the tips of his fingers still inside you, coated with you.
He hesitates. "But, something tells me..." He pushes back in, the filthy sound of how wet you are filling the room. "...You're not satisfied."
You let your eyes flutter quickly at the feeling, and when you open them to look at him again, you suddenly realize how dilated his pupils are. His gaze is hungry, shameless and wanting.
"I..." you can barely speak, you're so drained. But looking at him like this is stirring something within you that goes deeper than the physical. "I want..."
You shudder. Your head is spinning, filled with conflicting feelings. You know precisely what you want, but seeing the look in his eyes reminds you how far gone you both are. Whatever he may be right now, this man is not your master. When he looks at you like this, there's a word you can't quite put your finger on that describes him.
He brings his mouth to your ear, and in a voice you've never heard from him before, he growls, "I know what you want."
At that, it occurs to you the word you've been thinking of is 'dangerous'.
He finally slides his fingers from you, your thighs trembling around him. He doesn't pull your pants down yet, just uses the hand, still wet from you, to palm himself through his own pants. He still has one arm wrapped around you and his eyes are roving over your body greedily, like a starving man about to sink his teeth into the perfect meal.
Some distant part of your mind tells you that you'd normally feel self conscious, but that part of yourself is so far removed and muffled by the drug flooding your mind that it's white noise. Your only present thought is that you hope he gives in to his craving quickly.
"I will give it to you," he says. "I want to give it to you. But first..." he brings his hand up to your face and cradles your jaw. "You must tell me what you want."
You nearly choke at the demanding tone of his voice. It doesn't occur to you to be concerned at how dark his eyes have become. You imagine your eyes have a similar quality right now.
"Master, I need..."
His eyes widen when you speak, but before you can finish the sentence, the sound of footsteps outside cuts you off.
As the footsteps approach the door, Obi Wan releases his grip on you, parting your bodies, but only just slightly. His posture isn't one of a man who's been caught. His shoulders are stiff, and his expression holds irritation as the door slams open again.
A Falteen guard enters, hand on his blaster. When he sees the way you're looking at him, he pulls it and keeps it raised, staying near the open doorway. He clicks a button on his wrist.
"Possibly some effects here. Tell Marg we're bringing the prisoners out for interrogation soon."
"Are you?" Obi Wan asks coolly when the guard switches off his commlink. "Who is 'we'?"
"Wasn't talking to you, Jedi," the guard grunts as he backs toward the door, blaster still raised.
"How impolite. And I thought we were guests."
"Shut up," the guard snaps, then speaks into his wrist again. "Did you hear me? I said the prisoners are ready. Get here, now."
Catching sight of the way Obi Wan is looking at him, the guard abruptly turns to leave and close the door behind him.
"Ah, ah," Obi Wan admonishes, raising a hand that keeps the guard frozen in the doorway. "Keep us company, won't you? Until your friends get here."
The guard's face shows considerable effort in turning his upper body backward and raising his blaster halfway. Obi Wan smirks, and in an instant the blaster is across the room and in his hand. With his other hand, he makes a rising motion, then grips around an invisible throat.
The throat is, in fact, attached to the guard, who is now clutching at it. The guard's feet are off the ground, kicking uselessly. You almost think it looks... amusing.
Obi wan is certainly entertained. "Not feeling sociable? That's quite alright. I don't mind a quiet evening."
The noises of the guard's windpipe being crushed go on for some time. It disgusts you somewhat, hearing the pathetic creature struggle, but finally it comes to an end when Obi Wan clenches his fist, snapping his neck completely and dropping him to the floor.
You sigh, glad it's finally over, and Obi Wan wastes no time in aiming the blaster at the floor where his chain is mounted. He fires off several shots, eventually managing to free himself, the chain still around his leg but no longer attached to the ground. He comes over to you, running the back of his hand down your face.
"It appears it's time for us to go."
You nod. Despite the drug's insistence that nothing is as important as what you were about to do, you still understand the concept of life and death. To your immense irritation, you want to live.
"They took our lightsabers in the first room... I think it was to the south of the main room. They locked them in a grey box," you tell him. Your aching shoulders want you to ask him to blast you free of the wall, but your hands are too close to the top of the chain. He gives you a nod in return, then walks to the door.
"Don't worry," he says with a casual smile as he raises the blaster in his hand and fires down the hallway. "I won't be long."
You watch as he leaves, frustrated that you can't accompany him, but confident in his promise. It's abundantly clear he's not the one in danger.
Screams echo down the hallway and blaster fire lights up the walls. The sound of bodies being flung, followed with silence, confirms what you had thought. He's gone for what feels like an eternity, but in reality, was probably only a few minutes. When he returns, he's cut himself out of his chain and he's carrying both of your lightsabers. He quickly cuts you down, then holds his saber still for you to push your bound hands into it, separating the binders and then cutting them off completely.
You roll your shoulders. Sharp pain shoots through them, but it's a sweet kind of pain. "Thank you."
"My pleasure," he says with a smile. "Shall we?"
You follow him back down the hallway, now littered with bodies. It seems a stray blaster bolt must have clipped one of the light fixtures on the wall. It's flickering on and off, illuminating the bodies intermittently and casting shadows over Obi Wan's face.
"I suppose we'll need to steal a ship to get out of here," you say, relatively disinterested in the carnage that surrounds you.
"My thoughts exactly," he replies, stepping over a dismembered arm as you reach the end of the hallway and enter the main room again where the large table now sits empty. "I believe our host was about to save us the trouble."
You walk around the table to find Marg splayed out on the ground, looking up at you with an anguished groan. One of his legs is bent at a sickening angle.
You say the only thing that comes to mind. "Oh. Hello."
"Augh," Marg responds, gripping his leg and gritting his teeth at you. "Whatever you want, just take it and go. Remember, I let you live."
Obi Wan raises an eyebrow.
"Let..." the word rolls off his tongue slowly. Then he shakes his head just slightly, circling the table to look down at Marg himself.
"You know, I do owe you thanks, Marg."
The Pyke trembles when Obi Wan comes closer, gazing down at him with an almost bored expression.
"When I was a padawan, my master used to tell me that fear is the path to the dark side. Fear of loss, fear of pain, fear of death..."
His eyes trail over the table as he speaks, a streak of crimson staining the stone where evidently someone's body had been dragged.
"But what is the dark side without fear?"
You watch a grin spread over his face when Marg tries to inch away from him.
"Power."
Your eyes are drawn to the way his jaw sets after he says the word. He's magnificent.
He reaches toward Marg, whose hands suddenly rip at his throat, trying to pull at invisible fingers. "So I really must thank you, for showing me a new path. Now, if you would be so kind as to assist me further, where is the nearest ship with a hyperdrive?"
Marg's eyes are bulging and Obi Wan releases him slightly so that he can speak. Just as he's about to, a handful of guards enter the room. Your eyes snap up. They raise their blasters, training them all on Obi Wan.
You squint angrily at the interruption. How could such insignificant life forms threaten him? They should simply die.
And they do. The instant the thought enters your mind, they turn their barrels toward themselves and pull triggers.
Six bodies hit the floor almost in unison. Obi Wan stares, confused for only a moment before turning his gaze on you. His smile widens.
"Well done, young one. Very impressive."
His words of praise shoot through you, setting every nerve ending on fire. You were already burning for him, and now it's an inferno.
He turns his attention back to Marg, who's still squirming in his grip. "Well?"
The Pyke leader bites out a series of directions to the nearest landing platform and gasps when Obi Wan lets him go. He drops down with a heavy thud and sucks in shuddering breaths, scowling up at you.
You look back into his eyes, annoyed that he does not appear to be grateful at his release. You flick your wrist, lightsaber illuminating in your hand, and behead him.
The dark cloth of his ceremonial headcovering drapes behind his head as it rolls across the floor, and Obi Wan looks at you in mild surprise.
You shrug. "It will take longer for them to organize and follow us if he's dead."
His lips tug into a tight smile. "Very well; have it your way."
You follow him into the main entrance, back the way you'd originally been dragged into the compound, and you follow the dead Pyke's instructions to reach the landing platform, where you help yourselves to the largest ship available.
Obi Wan seats himself in the captain's chair, checking fuel gauges and testing the controls before take off. You busy yourself closing the hatches and preparing the ship. Once everything is secure, you give the all-clear and the ship lifts off, quickly exiting the atmosphere.
Once you've entered hyperspace, Obi Wan keys in the coordinates for Coruscant and heaves a sigh of relief, settling himself back into his seat. You walk over to him and he looks up at you from over his shoulder.
"What an ordeal that was." He looks down at his chest, seeming to notice the blood stain on his tunic for the first time. "And I'll have to get my robes cleaned. Blast."
You gaze down at him, hardly listening. You're still aching for him, and you feel no need to hold back your tongue. "Master... I believe you said you had something to give me?"
He turns his chair to face you, lowering his hands to the arm rests, seemingly unfazed by your bold change of subject. He raises his brows just slightly. "Is that how one should ask?"
You weren't expecting his simple retort, and for a moment you're unsure how to respond. He takes your silence as an answer.
"I was very clear."
His voice is imposing, almost terse. It makes your knees a bit weak.
"I... want you to touch me," you start off low and quiet. You put more effort into your voice for the second attempt. "I want you to fuck me."
His brows flick up, then his face relaxes into an amused smirk. "I'm just not sure..."
"Please. I want you to fuck me."
"It's something in your tone..."
You let out a slow breath, barely able to keep yourself from falling to the ground and begging. You need to convince him, but you can hardly form coherent sentences, just looking into his eyes like this. A thought crosses your mind.
"I... can show you."
His gaze becomes a bit more intense. "Show me what?"
"Now that I'm not tied up, there's a lot I can show you," you say, leaning down to place a kiss on his neck.
His eyelids dip briefly, and then he pulls you into a full kiss, gripping you and pressing his thumb into your jaw.
"Do you think you've earned it?"
"I... what?" You yelp in pain when his thumb presses harder.
"I wanted you to ask me for it, properly. Now, you can beg for it."
He kisses you again, his tongue forcing itself deep into your mouth, teasing until you feel like you're going to lose your mind. You could scream, you want him so badly.
When you break apart, you're panting. "Please, let me show you how much I want it. I can make you feel so good."
You snake your hand down his chest toward the center of his body, but he stops you, catching your wrist.
He pulls you almost into his lap, gritting into your ear. "Have you forgotten your place, young one?"
Your thighs clench together. "I haven't, I..."
His hand tightens on your wrist. "Get on your knees."
You scramble out of his hold to lower yourself to the floor, looking up at him furtively to make sure you're following his instructions as intended. Once you're kneeling, he looks down at you from his seat, his posture composed.
"Better."
You stifle a groan at his encouragement, soaking between your legs.
He leans his shoulders back, spreading his arms wide in his chair, and crosses one leg over the other, with the ankle of one boot resting on the opposite knee.
"You will show proper respect."
You bounce your head in a vigorous nod. "Yes, Master."
Something flickers in his eyes when you say that word, and it's enough to let you know how to proceed. You bow your head down, leaning forward, and press a soft kiss into the heel of his boot, holding it delicately in your hand. He doesn't stop you. He just tilts his head in slight surprise.
You kiss it again, and again, and then without thinking you turn your head sideways and press your tongue flat against the tip of his boot, dragging it slowly up. The heavy notes of leather fill your mouth like a fine scotch as you continue all the way up while gazing into his eyes, which are completely fixed on you.
"That is... " He swallows. "Very good."
When you reach the top of this boot, you want to kiss him, but he's too far away. You would need to stand, and he wouldn't allow it. You place the tips of your fingers on the calf of his boot, looking up from under your lashes.
"I could lick something else for you," you tell him, tugging slightly to move his legs apart.
"Oh?" is all he says in return, his voice deep, more words seeming to be stuck in his throat as his leg follows your guidance, spreading his knees apart. His chest is rising and falling faster now.
Your hand slides between his legs and you palm him through his clothing, your pussy tightening when you feel his size properly for the first time. Your mouth is already watering, imagining tasting him.
"If you'll let me?" you ask, gripping him gently and giving a few tugs through the fabric.
His posture is still stiff, the regal curve of his chin unmoving, but you can see the way he's pressing his fingers into the arm rests. You wait for his response, and he finally gives it. He wordlessly nods, giving himself away with a bit too much vigor, his hair falling forward.
He slides a hand through his hair to put it back into place while you pull the waistband of his pants up and over the head of his cock. There's a spot on the fabric starting to soak through from the leaking at his tip, and you can't help yourself from swiping a thumb over it, watching him suck in his stomach at the contact.
You tug his trousers down further, releasing him the rest of the way, and no sooner is he free than you suffocate him with your mouth. You suck his glistening head between your lips and the taste of him makes you throb with need. You allow yourself the pleasure of swirling your tongue just once before you take him all the way, and when he hits the back of your throat it makes you rock back on your knees a little.
His hips jut upward when you slide him all the way into your hot mouth, tightening your lips around him, and you start to work the length of him, savoring every inch as you look up at him in pure worship. His gaze is locked onto your mouth, watching you swallow him over and over. His jaw is starting to slacken.
You slow your movements and watch as the tips of his fingers go white, grasping at the arm rests. He licks his bottom lip.
"Fuck," he growls, his lower teeth jutting out in a half-snarl.
You pull your mouth off him with a wet pop, dragging your fingertips over him teasingly. "Which do you prefer, Master? Shall I go slow..."
You lower your head, spreading your lips over him again and inching down his thickness with an agonizing lack of speed, sighing through your nose at the way he fills your mouth perfectly. Then you pull back up, continuing the same languid motion, and look at him again.
"...or a bit faster?"
His eyes are cloudy now, his breath ragged. He doesn't answer. He just removes one hand from the arm rest and threads his fingers through your hair, slowly guiding you back to full speed.
He groans as you quicken your pace obediently, and every thought in your mind is replaced with the image before you - your master with his eyes closed, arching forward in his seat, holding your head between his legs as you slide your mouth up and down his leaking cock.
His eyes open again and he's staring down at you with an animalistic, almost delirious expression. He twitches inside your mouth and you can tell he's near the edge. You don't want this to end. You want to keep tasting him, keep unraveling him like this forever. Without realizing it, you've slowed down, and he takes notice.
His hand grips your hair more tightly and he starts to move into you, meeting your rhythm halfway and fucking into your mouth.
He gasps, biting out raggedly, "That's it. Don't fucking stop..." as his hips start to snap forcefully, making you choke for air.
You feel his hand slide from the back of your head to the side of your neck, and suddenly he's pressing into your throat, holding you against himself, moaning your name. Your eyes shut for a moment as your senses are overwhelmed. All you can do is keep your pace, keep sucking him, keep making him feel this way so that he never, ever wants to stop. You can't remember anything before this. The only thing that matters is this moment.
His fingers stiffen below your jaw, he grinds your name between his teeth one more time, and then he cums.
He explodes into the back of your throat, making you gasp to keep breathing as you swallow him, drinking everything he pours into you. You tighten your lips to keep moving up and down while he finishes, pressing your hands flat against his lap while his hips buck recklessly against you.
His mouth falls open as he collapses back against the chair, watching you drink the last drops of him, sucking him more softly. You finally let him slide from your mouth when he twitches, spent, and you run your tongue along your bottom lip, still searching for anything left of his taste.
He lies there, panting, his legs splayed shamelessly with his wet cock still on display, while you collapse sideways, leaning on your hand, looking up at him from the floor.
He looks divine. Literally - a god. His skin glistening, his hair disheveled, and his eyes wild, he's an exquisite mess. When he seems to regain some semblance of consciousness, he looks at you questioningly, still half-dazed.
"You swallowed... all of it?"
You nod up at him, unable to speak yet.
He breathes out, "Good girl. Very good."
It's too much. You nearly moan out loud. You reach up tentatively, grasping one of his hands and pulling him out of his seat. In his satisfied state he doesnt resist and kneels next to you, the muscles of his arm doing nothing to prevent you from pulling his hand beneath your clothes and between your thighs, showing him what he's done to you.
He sucks in a breath at the feel of you dripping over his fingers. You gaze at him desperately. "Good enough to be rewarded?"
He's silent, sliding his fingers in a circle, and then murmuring to himself. "So wet..."
He brings his eyes up to yours. "You're so wet," he repeats, playing with you absently, seemingly not concerned with the way you twitch and moan at his touch.
"Please..." you sigh, chest heaving. The words come out in a hoarse, broken whisper. "Please, I need you to fuck me."
He smirks at you. "My padawan has finally learned how to properly beg."
Moments later, you're spread on the floor, his body over yours, his pants at his knees and your legs hooked around him. He's teased you into oblivion, and you're a weakened, shaking shell of your former self. Your mind is gone. Your only thoughts are sin. Your whole existence is centered on the feeling of his index finger, which is swirling over your clit and dropping back down to drag through your wetness. And all at once, your existence turns to nothingness, because he pulls his touch away.
Your world bursts back into light when he finishes taking off his shirt and leans his body over yours, sliding the head of his cock through your lips, coating himself in your slick. He shudders at the feeling, wrapping one of his hands around your thigh to steady himself.
"Tell me what you want," he rasps into your ear.
"Fuck me," you moan, repeating the only words you can conceive at the moment. "Fuck me, Master."
He slides down, resting heavily between your legs, starting to spread you open. "Say my name."
"Obi Wan," his name wrenches out of you, your brows pinching together with all-consuming need. "Obi Wan..."
"Ah, you'd better remember that," he instructs you, easing your legs apart as he slides inside you. "You're going to be screaming it by the end."
He thrusts his cock deep into you, burying himself in one fluid motion, and draws back to start delivering every inch as promised...
And the next thing you remember, you're awake.
You blink.
The room comes into focus. You're in a bed, unclothed, and wrapped in unfamiliar sheets. You sit up, slowly. You're in pain. Your head is pounding and your throat is parched.
You squint around the room, trying to clear your blurry eyes. This looks like the crew quarters of a ship.
You look down at the bed again, and you realize you're not alone. Beside you, someone is sleeping. Someone with light brown hair and a handsome profile. Someone who smells like sage and spice and comfort. Someone who looks... like...
You flinch in recognition, and it jolts the bed. Obi Wan's eyelids squeeze tightly, then flutter open. He looks at you, bleary-eyed, and makes a confused noise in his throat.
He pulls in a deep breath through his nose and sits up, the sheets falling forward from his bare chest. "Commander?"
Your pulse is racing. Your head spins while he looks around the room, the same way you did. His blue eyes fall back onto yours, wide with confusion. "What is... how did we get here?"
You shake your head. "I'm not sure. The last thing I remember, we were drugged on Oba Diah, and then..."
Your eyes widen to match his, images starting to play in your mind. He's searching your eyes, still lost, and then he lowers his gaze to your neck. He tilts his head to look closer.
"Your neck... you have a mark. It looks like a bite-"
His words stop abruptly, just as yours did, and you see the recognition on his face. He doesn't speak for a long, long time. Neither of you does. Your blood is frozen in your veins, your stomach turning.
He gathers his side of the sheets, leaning over the side of the bed as if he's about to be sick.
He whispers with no emotion in his voice, just blank despair, "What have we done?"
--
Tag List: @cosmicsierra @projectdreamwalker
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Masterlist // Next Chapter >>
#obi wan kenobi#obi wan x reader#star wars#fanfic#obi wan#obi wan fanfiction#obiwan#star wars fanfiction#obi wan kenobi x reader
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rides
summary- you and anakin take a ride in his ship 🤧
daddy!anakin x little!reader blurb
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the world looked beautiful this high up. you weren’t usually a big fan of flying, but with your daddy right next to you, you felt safe enough to do anything.
“are you having fun, baby?” he asked as he flew over the temple, momentarily looking down. he had been feeling disdainful about the order as of recent, but he had you to balance his thoughts. thank god he had you.
“yes, daddy!” you said excitedly, jumping with joy in your seat. he was happy to do nice things for you, especially when you were so kind and appreciative. in his eyes, you were the perfect little girl.
“i’m glad, baby. where do you want to go to next?” he asked you.
“the stadium! i wanna see what it looks like from up here. please?” you gave him puppy dog eyes.
“anything you want, baby.” he said, turning to the left towards the stadium. as you continued flying, you noticed the thousands of flying cars and ships next to you like a floating highway, you were mesmerized.
“it’s so pretty, daddy!” you exclaimed. yes, you are, anakin thought.
“it’s very pretty.” he agreed, smiling at you. he loved the way your eyes sparkled. “hey, come here.” he said, pushing the pilots chair out a little and patting his lap. you unbuckled and switched over to your daddy’s lap, him placing his chin on your head and you sighed happily.
as everything went by in a blur, you began to feel sleepy. daddy was rubbing your back and humming softly. between that and the steady hum of the ship, you soon dozed off before you even reached the stadium.
anakin still flew around, for he had to clear his head. the order had been dragging him down to the depths of hell, it felt like. the only people keeping him afloat were you, obiwan, and the chancellor. everyone else didn’t care. everyone else had no faith in him.
he gripped the controls tightly. it wasn’t fair, he wasn’t a child anymore. he had to protect this galaxy so you could live your life freely. safely. but no one ever wanted to listen to him, to his ideas. they wouldn’t even grant him the rank of master, a complete insult in his eyes. he wanted to be able to protect you, he wanted to protect everyone. why were people fighting him on this?
as you began to stir, your daddy gently landed on the landing pad near your shared apartment.
things would be okay, they had to be. any other outcome wouldn’t do. he looked down at you and he knew, he’d betray the entire galaxy if he had to in order to protect you.
no one could stop him.
#fanfic#archive of our own#star wars agere#anakin x reader#anakin skywalker#cg!anakin#daddy!anakin#star wars anakin#anakin x you
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MURY CHUMES‼️
in honour of christmas 2023,could u makefestive/holiday obiwan hcs bc hes so silly and i know he'd "deck the halls" (im so funny) (im not)
obi is the type of guy who would cuddle w you by the fireplace n drink hot tea or hot chocolate <3 (and he'd spoil you to death my goodness!) (also sorry if this is wasnt what u meant i didnt know what u meant by send asks HSJSHSJ)
OMG HI THIS IS SO PERFECT I NEED THIS SO BAD so thank you for sending this in <3 ur my new fav person
&& MERRY CHRYSLER :) consider this my gift to you!
"i don't get why we had to be sent away DURING the holiday season. the council couldn't have waited?"
you grumbled some variation of this under your breath for several minutes straight while preparing the flight out to dantooine
and obi agrees
the two of you are being sent on a long-term operative mission. there's no daily wars or hard combat to face—it was more of a stakeout of sorts—but still, you had to stay alert. just in case
you were mainly upset at the fact that you couldn't relax in your quarters or with your family for the holidays
obi-wan, sensing your blues, decides that he's not going to let that ruin the festivities
you're staying in a quaint little home for the next few weeks. it's plainly, but relatively tidy
"there's a life day market in town! we can pick some food up there, and decorations, if you're up for it" obi had suggested, so that's what you end up doing
while at the market, which is bustling with people from all over the galaxy (you later find out that dantooine's life day market is one of the biggest there is), the two of you are mistaken for a married couple
but hey, the status gets you several discounts on fresh fruit
even after you leave the produce booth, he keeps his hand interlocked with yours
(and you like it. though you'd die before admitting it lol)
you haul several giant bags and baskets of supplies back to your place
(correction, obi-wan does most of the heavy lifting. you're only carrying the tree decorations so you look like a tangled bundle of color that has no start or end)
it takes you everything you have not to stare at how his arms flex when he moves things
you didn't realize obi had a creative side to himself, so when you let him take charge of decorating, you didn't know what to expect
but once the two of you finish decorating you're pretty amazed
the tree glitters with woven string lights and ornaments that look like stars plucked straight from the heavens, shining in hues of rose gold and ivory white
"it's so beautiful," you exhaled
"indeed, it is," obi-wan replied, but he wasn't even looking at the light fixtures (he was looking at you instead)
you're about to unpack the groceries and start cooking but he stops you in your tracks, placing his hands on your shoulders and giving them a gentle squeeze
"let me handle this, darling. i insist," he says—and you can feel your face growing warm at the term of endearment
so you sit down by the fireplace with a blanket around your shoulders and watch as he carefully cuts up the starfruit and places it in a porcelain bowl, dices the meat and vegetables, and pours hot chocolate (you made a mental note to ask him later which booth that was from) into two mugs
for a moment you get completely lost in the idea of living a peaceful, domestic life with him. one where you wake up every morning to the fresh smell of coffee and berries and are greeted with a tight embrace
but you're brought back to reality with the reminder that technically, you're on a mission right now, and you're both jedi
so no amount of wishing and praying will make any bit of that domestic life come true
:(
"you've been so quiet," he suddenly speaks up
"just...tired," you reply, and it's the truth. the entire flight over, you didn't sleep a wink—you always had trouble falling asleep
he decides not to question you further—he knows what's bothering you; he always does
dinner is amazing as always—you're good at cooking, too, but your skills pale in comparison to what obi has
after you eat, you sit down by the fireplace, wrapped up in several thick blankets with steaming hot chocolate in hand
"how long has it been since you last saw your family?" he asks
"seven years," you say. "we write letters to each other, but you know, given my schedule, it's hard to pay them a visit. i hardly see them anymore..."
"i can be your family, then," he offers with a sad smile
and you feel your heartbeat pick up speed just a little
not because you're secretly in love with him...of course not lmao
but because he's always been here for you and continues to be
you lean against him and close your eyes and just. take him in
like. how does this man smell so good...
it's as if he bathed in every warm and comforting scent you could think of
and you can almost pretend that you're right back home in the arms of the one you love, and not millions of miles away on a foreign moon
(jokes on you, he is your new home)
you're not sure how long you stay cuddled up like that for, but you wouldn't mind if it lasted for the entirety of your mission
"you know i love you," he says quietly after he thinks you've fallen asleep, and he gently kisses your forehead
but you manage to whisper back an "i love you too" before drifting off
obi-wan finally feels at peace
& so do you
(i'm so sorry if this wasn't what you expected hiusahfiuherguheg but hopefully it makes you feel all warm & cozy inside!! hehe merry christmas)
tags (this list hasn't been updated in a while so apologies if it seems off...lol): @voguesir @fl0ating @lady-elena-adeline @katelynnwrites @freeshavocadoooo @buckysbeloved @kelieah @kaleidoscope1967eyes @lam-ila @amelia-song-pond @unstablecaffeinatedmind @elenavampire21 @joyfullyswimmingface @arkofblake @hellotherekenobi
#obi wan kenobi x reader#obi wan kenobi#star wars imagine#obi wan kenobi imagine#obi wan fic#obi wan x reader#obi wan imagine#obi wan imagines#star wars prequels#star wars oneshot#obi wan kenobi x y/n#obi wan kenobi x you#obi wan x you#christmas#holidays
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Anyone else forget that show ended cuz it’s been so long since it ended and you think, “wonder when the next season is gonna be announced,” and then you look it up in case you missed it and then you get a crushing realization that it ended almost a decade ago now and you haven’t rewatched it in so long that you don’t even remember the ending?
So guess who’s abt to rewatch Star Wars rebels (spoilers) and scream from joy at Ashoka’s reveal again and cry at her death and cry at Kanan’s death and scream at Ashoka’s revival and cry at Ezra’s sort of death and then spiral into watching the Ashoka show because some how I’ve yet to watch it and then decide to rewatch all of clone wars and then the bad batch! Yes I am a hardcore Star Wars fan it has been bred into me and yes I do think the sequels suck, but it is due to the lazy writing and endless amount of plot holes and how they nerfed every original character and how they scrapped the original story that was supposed to be abt Leia and how she became a Jedi and also slayed as a literal queen and GOD DAMNIT I WANNA SEE THAT EVEN IF ITS AN EXTRA MOVIE OR (I would love to this actually) IF ITS ANIMATED BECSUSE GID DAMNIT THE ANIMATED STAR WARS SHOWS ARE INCREDIBLE AND I HAVE FOUND NO FAULT IN ANY OF THEM AND YES I DO THINK ASHOKA CARRIED A BIG PART OF SAID ANIMATED SHOWS AND SHE IS MY FAVORITE CHARACTER IN ALL THE FRANCHISE AND THE ONLY ONES THAT COME CLOSE TO TOPPING HER ARE REX, OBIWAN, SABINE (I named my cat after her), WRECKER, FIVES, ALL OF THE CLONES, AND MAYBE EZRA AND PROBABLY R2-D2 AND POSSIBLY PADME ABD MAYBE HAN SOLO AND CHEWY AND LUKE AND LEIA AND ANIKAN AND REX AND HUNTER AND ECHO AND ALL I am dead serious I mean ALL the clones (except for that one that sided with that racist [clonist?] Jedi) I especially love the chaotic ones *cough cough* wrecker *cough cough*
Did I mention that I like Ashoka?
Also if any of you have no idea who half of these characters are, I highly recommend you watch the clone wars and Rebels! A lot of ppl think they’re more children’s shows, but they do explore a few dark themes (there is shameless murder in a lot of the episodes and multiple war crimes committed)… also seeing the development of animation from s1 of clone wars all the way to s7 (it’s been 4 years since clone wars officially ended holy shit) is insane and so satisfying! Seriously, please go watch it you won’t regret it! Also the bad batch is a sequel to the clone wars that takes place right after order 66 and it’s rlly interesting too :)
#star wars#rant#star wars clone wars#star wars rebels#ashoka tano#the clone wars#clones#captain rex#obi wan kenobi#anakin skywalker#ezra bridger#kanan jarrus#hera syndulla#sabine wren#luke skywalker#leia organa#han solo#fuck the prequels#tbb wrecker#there are too many characters to tag#tbb echo
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Jurassic world ObiAniDala Au with
Padmè as the Park handler (CEO?). She handles the business end of things, she's the reason the park still runs. You can find Ms.Amidala ruthlessly shutting down assholes who knock at her door wanting to exploit the park for more money by cutting corners. She's amazing at her job.
At the top of all the paperwork, She's made sure the park is for the people to enjoy safely. She once chewed out a whole team of architects who wanted more va va voom enclosures that were pretty but would've ultimately been useless in containing the very huge T.Rex.
Followed by; Dino Scientist/board member ObiWan kenobi. He's got like 6 degrees , he's here to study the dinosaurs' behaviour. You can find Dr.Kenobi with a clipboard in his hand walking after one dino or the other without any care for the world. All the dinos love him, even the predators.
His face is the first thing they see when they hatch cus he's made an effort to show up for every hatching. Instant bonding tbh. Dude hangs out with the t.rex with 0 repercussions (like being eaten ya kno, nobody knows how he does it). Obiwan is also absolutely amazing at securing funding for the park from rich senators. Padmè greatly appreciates his work cus if she has to deal one more time with Clovis she's going to scream.
And finally. Trainer?Park Ranger? Mechanic? Engineer? Anakin Skywalker. Nobody really knows what his official designation is at the park. All they know is that one day this golden retriever looking guy showed up with like. 10 different qualification certificates and a dab hand at handling the dinos.
He's good at what he does tho so people leave him alone. An officer sent by the military once tried to bully anakin and quickly finds out that not only does anakin have a mean right hook, he's also high enough in the park food chain that the coruscant military is barred from trying to propose any deals after the incident.
He's got an entire creche/enrichment setup for the vulnerable babies that no one had thought of. It cut down the mortality rate of the babies by a huge amount. Its also how he won Obi-wan's heart, who until then had totally thought anakin was just some dudebro who didn't understand dinos. Anyway somewhere along the line, very intense eye-contact, a little bit of misunderstanding and a whole lot of kisses stolen when padmè is on an important holoconferance call and hand holding with obi-wan during the hatchings, Anakin woos them both.
They have late night dates at the elasmosaurus enclosure, bond over almost punching Clovis, and oh my god don't you get a heart attack when obi-wan around with little predator babies in a papoose??
Rumours have it that he was seen begging Ms.Amidala for just one (1) chance 🥺on his knees when she was meeting with Dr.Kenobi.
The door closed after that so no one really knows what Anakin was really begging for (it was so he could take an apprentice. Anakin thinks he can get away with it now because he knows obi-wan and padmè love him eheh)
#this is brought to you by my brain at 2.40am#beloveds i am so not sleepy#i have to work gods this is so 💀💀💀#obianidala#obikin and anidala#anakin skywalker#star wars#obi wan kenobi#padme amidala#jurassic park au#who funds the park if padmè and anakin run off all the people with the money?#i dunno#i didnt wanna think about all the evil stuff so i didnt bother with that#ehehehe#you can thank prehistoric world docu series for this as well#ive been watching so many dino docus
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academia is when your father who looks just like any humanities university teacher (50 to 70 years old, the ragged looks of a man who used to dress sharply but gave up and still carries his leather case w him but it has holes) uses his looks to sneak into the restricted part of your university archives and when an expert in church architecture finds him there reading a super obscure book he uses his special interest against him and they have a two hours long conversation where the expert forgets to asks him if he's allowed to be there bc he's too happy to find someone who knows more than him on that super obscure topic (one very specific type of countryside church architecture in the 12th century)
academia is when he's been dodging an association of experts bc he hates human contact so he's been contacting them solely through a fake wikipedia account he made a fake email and uses a VPN for so they can't find him as if they knew what a computer is, but they get VERY interested in his wikipedia work and make an entire article about him in their newspaper and eventually he has to go bc they have one of the only three copies of a manuscript he's after but he waits until he's about to move to another town so he can use that as an excuse to never see them again
academia is when 5 years later the head of that association manages to contact him again save me obiwan kenobi style, absolutely horrified bc he told them 5 years ago that one famous guy from the 17th century didn't study in the town's highschool contrary to what they say, and she finally figured out he was right and now she acts like she's about to be burned at the stake for a mistake her predecessor made and which nobody cares about
academia is when you realize that your father and your math teacher in a town 6 hours drive away are very good friends bc they met on wikipedia when your teacher helped your dad gather some data on the wine trades of the south of france in the 8th century and to thank him your dad let him know about an abbot who did some mathematical discoveries in the 10th century and also was a wine trader so now the two of them swore an oath of allegiance to each other
academia is when your father genuinely thinks he's neurotypical bc look, everyone he interacts with acts like that but he only ever interacts with people who think it's normal to be able to read monks works from 500 years ago in a basement, who spend their entire free time editing wikipedia, who organize their weekends around which archives they can visit on the way and who speak latin fluently
#I need to write about his shenanigans#and that's just the archives of church architecture part of his adventures#he's like barbie#he was in a band he's an architecture expert he was a sailor he was a cook he was a journalist he worked in insurance he worked in marketing
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Thot weekend!!!!
So I have the Sith!Obiwan brainrot because of kooks ask and your reply to it so I have come asking for more
I just *know* he would want to mark his beloved in any way possible. Just seeing their neck and chest and thighs covered in the dark bruises he leaves
But he loves the marks they leave just as much... The scratches down his back or the bite on his shoulder for when it's just too good to resist
EEEEEEE!!! I love this thot because you just know he adores seeing the results of his loving. I think the exhibitionist in him gets a thrill in showing off his marks on your body so he’ll definitely leave some in places where everyone can see. I wonder how others might react to that…
Pairing: Sith Obi-Wan Kenobi x female reader
Rating: Explicit/Mature 18+
It’s the start of a new day and you’re admiring your Sith lover’s handy work on your body as you prepare for the day. It helps that his bedroom has a dazzling three-sided mirror, all the better to see all the love bites and bruises he’s left on your thighs, your stomach, your breasts, and of course, your neck. It’s only been two weeks since you became his personal administrative officer, in essence, his secretary, and your body looks like a map of the galaxy, each spot a system that represents his desire for you.
There’s a particularly dark bruise high on your neck, near your right ear that you know won’t be covered by the collar of your uniform, meaning everyone will see the evidence of his affection for you.
“I suppose I could try covering it with some concealer,” you’re murmuring to yourself when your Dark Sith Lord comes up behind you.
“What? And spoil the work of art I’ve gifted your skin? I won’t hear of it,” Obi-Wan drawls, his hand wrapping around your waist and yanking you back until you’re flush against his naked form.
“You don’t mind that everyone will see it?” you inquire, curious to see what he thinks about your relationship being so on display as it were. Everyone already suspects you’re in his bed, but this would solidify those rumors.
“Do you really think I care what those gossipy fools might say?” He smirks at you through the mirror. “Besides, people always gossip about beautiful women and their handsome lovers.”
He kisses the back of your neck, working his way around to the side without any bruise.
“How about I give you a second one, right here?” His teeth nip at the spot just under your left ear lobe.
“Lord Kenobi,” you breathe out his name and title, pleadingly.
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,” he states and then his mouth latches onto your neck, kissing, sucking, and biting at your tender skin until a new bruise has bloomed there.
“I guess there’s no hiding them both,” you comment, still breathless from his torment on your neck.
“That’s fucking right,” he replies as he drags you back to the bed for another round and likely more bruises before work.
Later, you’re in the breakroom at work, fixing yourself and Lord Kenobi cups of tea. You’re humming to yourself still in a world of bliss from your morning activities, when you hear snickering and whispering behind you.
“I mean c’mon are we supposed to ignore that she’s covered in hickeys,” you hear one person whisper, not softly enough.
“She’s such a slut, they’re probably not even from the same man,” the other person comments back, “I hear she’s been fucking both Vice Admiral Rampart and Lieutenant Commander Ardan.”
“Yeah, I heard she sucked off Admiral Tarkin backstage at last week’s awards presentations,” another voice chimes in.
“How else do you explain how quickly she rose in the ranks, hmm?” the first voice snidely comments again.
Your mouth falls open in surprise and your cheeks burn with indignation. You whip around to see three other junior officers sipping caf and giggling their heads off at their rude accusations. When they see your face, one of them, Lieutenant George, smirks at you. You know her well as she’s always trying to kiss up and flirt with Lord Kenobi to absolutely no avail.
“Oh, hi,” she says with false friendliness, “You look like you’re having a lovely morning.”
“Much better than yours, I’m willing to bet,” you retort.
“Mmm, yes, I’d say so,” she replies, looking pointedly at your neck, “You certainly have the evidence to display for us. I wonder what your superior officer thinks of that.”
“Lord Kenobi is quite proud of them, after all he’s the one who put them there,” you tell her smugly.
“So you say,” she responds snidely, “But I seriously doubt a powerful man of such good taste like Lord Kenobi would dirty himself with the likes of you.”
“Well, we all know he isn’t fucking you,” you snap at her, “Your frigid ass looks like it hasn’t had a decent orgasm in forever.”
“You whore,” she spits out the insult.
“You wish you were me,” you tell her, as you scoop up your cups of tea and spin on your heel to march out of there.
You storm back towards Lord Kenobi’s office, trying to compose yourself before you see him. You knew people were talking about you, but you had no idea they thought you were sleeping around the officer’s club. And seriously, Rampart, Ardan, and Tarkin? Your stomach turns just thinking about it. You’re still fuming when you enter Lord Kenobi’s office and he senses it immediately.
“Sweetheart? What’s the matter?” His voice is soft but with an edge to it, suggesting that he’ll find out the cause of your ire and make the person responsible regret it.
“It’s nothing, it’s stupid,” you say, trying not to worry him with your petty office nonsense.
“Come here,” he tells you, motioning you to come closer.
When you’re standing right in front of him, he tugs you downward to sit in his lap. His fingers brush over your cheek and his golden eyes look deeply into yours.
“Tell me,” he says simply.
You try to look away for a moment but can’t tear your eyes from his, “It’s dumb, it’s just like you said, foolish people are gossiping about me.”
“And this has upset you? You don’t wish for people to know that you’re in my bed every night?” he asks.
“No, no, it isn’t that at all,” you rush to reassure him, “In fact, I was proud to tell them that it was you, but they didn’t believe me, they think I’m sleeping around with a bunch of other officers.”
“As if I would let anyone else touch you,” he scoffs at the idea, “And who was it that thinks this?”
“Lieutenant George, and Ensigns Wieners and Smith,” you answer him.
Obi-Wan gets a twinkle in his eye, “I think I know just the way to solve this issue.”
He surges forward, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. You’re caught off guard, but you return his kiss enthusiastically. His fingers begin tugging at your uniform, pulling it open rather frantically, fondling whatever he can reach. You do the same to him in return, his sudden energy spurring you on.
“That’s it, sweetheart, kiss my neck, leave your own marks, and muss up my hair too,” he instructs you, tugging your hand upward.
You do as he requests, your lips and teeth nipping at him, leaving stains of your lipstick along with your own bright bruises as you suck at his fair skin. He groans in response, a deep growling sound that you can feel in your core. It only encourages you to continue and you bite and suckle harder.
Meanwhile, his hand pushes your skirt up, his fingers hooking into your panties to explore your sensitive folds hidden underneath. You’re already wet with arousal for him and it thrills him to see how quickly he can turn you on. Two of his fingers push inside you, reaching up to brush that soft spongy spot that makes you cry out his name. Then he pulls out, spreading your wetness all over your clit before rubbing tight circles over it.
You’re gasping for air as you cling to him, your passion for him already building so fast that you can feel yourself clenching around nothing. You can feel how hard he is against your hip. But just when he gets you right to the edge, he stops. You whimper as he takes his hand from you.
“You’re going to ride me, right here in my office, I want this entire place to reek with the scent of our sex,” he commands, unbuckling his trousers and pulling out his cock.
Quickly you yank your skirt up, but you’re not fast enough with your underwear, and before you know it Lord Kenobi has torn your panties right off and tossed them onto his desk. You straddle his hips with your knees and sink down onto him as he thrusts upward to meet you. You both groan in satisfaction as he sheathes himself deep inside you.
This isn’t a time for soft, languid love making though. Instead you’re fucking him like your life depends on it, hard and fast. He’s growling at you like an animal, biting at your breasts through your clothing and gripping your ass so hard you’ll have new bruises there in the shape of his fingers. The two of you are racing towards your climaxes in record time. Holding your hips so that you grind against him, Obi-Wan ensures that you get there first, just seconds before he lets himself go, spilling deep inside you.
Both your chests are heaving as you catch your breath. His hair is in tangles from your hands, lipstick is smeared across his normally pristine white collar, and there are two dark love bites on his neck, mirroring the ones he left on you earlier. You can only imagine that you look equally a mess. As you stand, you can feel his spend sliding down your thighs and with your panties ruined there’s nothing to stop it. You reach for them anyway, figuring you can use them to wipe up some of the mess, when his hand shoots out to stop you,
“Leave them,” he orders, “Go out just as you are and sit at your desk for now. I promise I’ll let you clean up in good time.”
As you’re exiting his office, a bit puzzled, you see him pick up his comm and call Lieutenant George.
“My office, immediately, Lieutenant. And bring Ensigns Wieners and Smith with you!”
Send me your thots! We're thotting all weekend!!
@boomtowngirl @kavecika @becks-things @mysticalgalaxysalad @catsnkooks @starlightrows @tailorvizsla @bitchin-beskar @lilhawkeye3 @acourtofsnakes @grogusmum @buzzybeebee @deannie13 @ladykatakuri @noodlesfics @the-good-shittt @princessxkenobi @everythingyouwanted @jewfro24 @vaderthepotater @pinkiemme @laichka @elinedjarin @myeternalsin @kazthedestroyer @writeforfandoms @startrekkingaroundasgard @onabouteverything @beskarmermaid @flightlessangelwings
#sith!obi wan kenobi#sith obi wan kenobi#sith obi wan kenobi fanfiction#sith!obi wan kenobi fanfiction#sith obi wan kenobi x reader#sith!obi wan kenobi x reader#sith obi wan kenobi x female reader#sith!obi wan kenobi x female reader
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I expanded this crack AU idea from my sketch.
*General Chat for Jedis: talking about your Clones*
Only Adi: <Attachment of 30 pictures>
Only Adi: Masters come in
Only Adi: We're in emergency
Only Adi: Out Commanders turned to babies
I'm on highground: What
Only Adi: Commander Neyo and Bacara are in child body. And their mind as well
Key Adi: hlp
Mace will do: Master Adi, you didn't need to attach 30 pictures of younglings as a proof if you wanted our help
Only Adi: That's not a point
Mace will do: Indeed, that is not a point, that's what I'm saying
Explorer: <Attachment of 50 pictures>
Mace will do: What the kark
Explorer: Are you alright, Master Ki Adi?
Key Adi: Adi why do I need to take care of them all
Key Adi: One of them is yours
Only Adi: Focuse on kids I'm calling a help
Only Adi: You are the rare experienced of real parenting people in this whole GAR Ki Adi. I made right choice
Key Adi: They are dragging my beard
Mace will do: Okay, everyone calm down
Mace will do: And Master Plo what the kark are those pictures of boy
Explorer: Seems like many of us have the same situation.
I'm on highground: Is he your Commander, Plo?
Explorer: Yes, and he is sleeping under my robe right now.
Only Adi: Please tell us how to make them sleep. Master Ki Adi is now became the human climbing tower of children
Only Adi: Why are he saying this is fine
Mace will do: Of course because he is experienced of suffering of parenting. Not like us.
Explorer: Give them a food. The proper warm foods that is cooked and not rationed. Give them a warm milk if you have. If you can the sweet treats are best. Make them sit in fluffy place, make cozy and warm, or give them blankets. Tell them a story, and they will sleep eventually. And then you can carry them to bed for comfortable sleep.
Key Adi: That only works for the kids like your Commander
Key Adi: This ones are not that type. They will tear apart those blankets I can feel it
Only Adi: Then what should we do
Key Adi: The only way to make them calm is making them exhausted after playing long time
Key Adi: So Adi yes we need to be suffered together so get back here
Only Adi: I will take the turn there when you're knocked out
Mace will do: I think we need to check our Clone Commanders. Report your Commander's state after you checked.
Skyguy: OMK Obiwan hear me out
Skyguy: Rex is BABY
I'm on highground: Yes we know Anakin. Read the chat
Skyguy: HE IS SO TINY
Snips: WHAT SHOULD WE DO MASTERS HE IS SO TINY
Explorer: Please refer to my chat little 'soka. It may help you.
Snips: Oh my force your so great Master Plo
I'm on highground: Masters, I may inform you that my Commander... is sleeping on the chair in his children body.
I'm on highground: And he is holding my saber. How did he found my saber, I thought I lost it
Skyguy: Where is your 'Saber is your life', Master?
I'm on highground: Guess your children problem has been solved, Anakin?
Skyguy: HOW COULD YOU SAY THAT HERE
Skyguy: I TRUSTED YOU FOR MY SECRET
Skyguy: Wait that's not what you mean
Skyguy: OH KARK
Snips: WTK Skyguy
Skyguy: OH KRIFF
Explorer: What
I'm on highground: Uh oh
Departure: What
Shark tea: What
Green troll: What
Allie of you: What
Snake eater: What
Kolarboration: What
Only Adi: What
Only Adi: Also situation report: Ki Adi is knocked out by exhaust. It's my turn to play with them. Wish me a Force.
I'm on highground: May the Force be with you Master Adi
Departure: ...something is wrong
Shark tea: What is it, Master Depa? Not the Skywalker one.
Departure: My Master should become more aggressive in chat when he read about this chatting
Departure: He is so quiet.
Skyguy: Oh that's right I was thinking about him where is he?
Explorer: Master Windu, are you there?
Shark tea: You are making us worried
Departure: My opinion is he is knocked down by his headaches by the numbers while witnessing this chaos
I'm on highground: That's logical Master Depa
Mace will do: He came back
Mace will do: I thought he was dead
Skyguy: what
I'm on highground: Are you alright Master Mace?
Mace will do: Everyone check the deceased Commander's room. Don't care if they have other owners now, or got not. Juct check them right now
Skyguy: Oh my force don't tell me no you have
Snips: ...Master Mace, Ponds is there?
Mace will do: Yes
Snips: ....in child body?
Mace will do: Yes
Mace will do: I need to check his head right now. Mace out.
Skyguy: He didn't care about me
I'm on highground: Yes
Skyguy: He is so broken right now
I'm on highground: Yes
Shark tea: How many of chaoses we will face today
I'm on highground: Yes
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The fact that you’re right and it’s canon Obi is the one who could’ve prevented Vader. Palpatine says that as long as Obi is around Anakin will never turn and he waits for Obi-Wan to be off world to finally manipulate Anakin. They’re insane for that
anon it makes me lose it. the narrative places of padme and obiwan here are soooooo opposed. padme is essentially the driving force (& excuse) of vader, and obiwan is LITERALLY the ONLY ONE standing btw anakin and vader, btw palps and anakin, btw padme and anakin (funny enough), and btw the galaxy plunging into darkness or not.
like anakin's dark side completely cools at the merest word from obi-wan???
NO PRESSURE OR ANYTHING OBI😅😅
it's like i always say: if anakin is the Demi-god, obi-wan is the Believer.
and what's a god if no one believes in him?
just a monster.
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