#jedi temple shenanigans

[bibannana]

Kit *sipping his caf as a chime goes off around the temple*: Ah daily announcement time!

Anakin *dramatic arse*: Good morning everyone, this is your local disappointment speaking-

Kit *spit's out his caf all over Mace*

Plo *sighing*: Master Kenobi I do believe that is your-

Obi-wan *sprinting walking calmly out of the mess hall*: Anakin!!

Yoda *nodding*: Local disappointment Skywalker is.

Taglist: @soliloquy-of-nemo @nekotaetae @staycalmandhugaclone @jiabeewrites @sexy-rex

[arithecreatorsstuff]

A Moment in the Jedi Counsel

Note: written from the point of view of an anonymous Jedi

"I sense a great disturbance in the Force, as if someone screaming in agony...

No, sorry Master, just a dumb padawan trying to raid my stash of jelly beans. Yes, Master... the mousetrap was necessary, due to a certain thieving apprentice constantly pilfering my sweets. That should teach the scruffy little nerd header. What? That's "Dark Side" tactics? So is thievery, yet the scunner keeps doing it! Next time, I'm planting a stun charge on the damned jar."

"Stealing candy from a Jedi, is someone?" Yoda chimed in.

"Yes, and it's getting old quickly. Come on, it's hard enough just to find good jelly beans these days, and it's not like I have a lot of vices."

"In the filing cabinet, you should store them. Young Skywalker cares not for filing."

"Huh. Surprised I never thought of that. But, isn't that why I'm a mere Jedi, and you get the nice cushy Counsel chair?"

"That, and adorable I am."

"Can't argue that, Master Yoda. Master Windu showed me baby holos."

"A word with Master Windu, I wish."

[mistergreatbones]

Why is it always an “ancient sith artifact” causing the time travel/body swap/deaging shenanigans? why not ancient Jedi artifact?

Younglings running up to Jocasta like “Someone just touched the Rock That Turns You Into A Tooka again”

[breakfastteatime]

(I am having baby!Cal thoughts...)

[arkhavens]

had a vague fic idea.

Set kinda near the end of the clone wars but not like the End End. Obi-wan n Anakin get sent out to poke around a sith ruin, and obi wan touches the sith artefact thats there. He gets transported to a universe where non of the bad shit in his life happened. (essentially)

Xanatos never fell, so qui-gon actually picked him b4 he aged out. On melida/daan, qui-gon left temporarily to make sure tahl got the help she needed but then hurried right back n helped the Young w obi wan. Jaster didnt die at Korda 6. Galidraan wasnt a clusterfuck. Mandalore is actually united. Dooku never fell. Qui gon never dies. The war never started. etc etc. Everything is happy and warm and so so Light.

its everything he's ever wanted, sitting right there in front of him. Its peaceful, and lovely, and nothing hurts, and its all alright. everyone there is above all else, Content. But this universe's people Are Not His. they may be friendly, and welcoming, and so Kind. but these arent the people hes fought beside and lived with and truly Known. No Matter How Much He Wants Them To Be, these arent really his friends, his family. He sees this version of himself, and the differences are striking.

This Obi Wan can actually sleep through the night. This Obi Wan doesnt have issues with food, or trust, or feeling adequate.This Obi Wan actually goes to therapy.

And heres the worst part of that tricky little artefact that started it all. You can return to your original universe. You can do so easily. All you have to do. Is Consciously Decide To Turn Away From Everything You've Ever Wanted.

It works a little different for everyone. some see universes where a particular person is the only thing different, some see radically different times and places. It just depends. Obi Wan? All he really wants is Peace. Peace and for those hes loved to be there with him.

And he does. He turns away from it all, after the few weeks it took to figure it out. He knows he has to go back. And then he is. Just a few moments after the initial disappearance. With Anakin and Cody and Rex all in the room. The immediate, overwhelming difference in the force is Startling. seeing exactly how much Darker everything feels.

and whats the difference between these two universes? what happened to make it all So different?

Palpatine just dropped dead right after he killed plagueis. just right then and there. Heart Attack? Stroke? Will of the Force? you decide.

But this has a happy ending!! Obi wan knows its palps, they fuckin get him, they find the chips, they make peace, and obi wan goes to therapy<3

[oh-three]

Even more incorrect Guard quotes:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

.

Jurr: “So I have made the decision to trust you.” Tindri: “A horrible decision, really.”

Rakesh: answers phone “Hello?” Vori: “It's Vori.” Rakesh: “What did she do this time?” Vori: “No, it's me, Rakesh. It's actually me.” Rakesh: “What did you do this time?”

Linaleh: “Why do I always try to tell people we're cool? We are so very uncool.”

Vori: “Am I right, Rak?” Rakesh: “I’m almost certain you’re not, but to be fair, I wasn’t listening.”

Loktof, looking over Rakesh’s shoulder: “You can draw?” Rakesh, stopping what they were doing: “You can speak?”

Rakesh: “Where is Loktof?” Tindri: “I'll do you one better, who is Loktof??” Linaleh: “Here's a better question, why is Loktof?”

Tindri: “You were stabbed. Do you remember anything?” Jurr: “Only the ambulance ride to the hospital.” Tindri: “That wasn't an ambulance, I drove you.” Jurr: “But I heard a siren.” Rakesh: “That was Linaleh.” Linaleh: “Sorry, I got nervous.”

Rakesh: “I have met some of the most insufferable people. But they also met me.”

Linaleh: “We just ate. Why are you making pancakes?” Vori: “For the dogs.” Linaleh: “Why are you making pancakes for the dogs?” Vori: “They don't know how.”

Rakesh: “Kill me nowwwww.” Vori: “Sorry, no can do. I need your help with my homework.”

*The gang responding to being stabbed by a sword* Vori: “Rude.” Rakesh: “That's fair.” Linaleh: “Not again.” Tindri: “Are you gonna want this back or can I keep it?”

Vori: “Ow!” Linaleh: “What’s wrong?” Vori: “I have this weird pain right above my eyebrow.” Linaleh: “It’s called a stress headache. I got my first one when I was four.”

Rakesh: “I hate Loktof.” Tindri: "’Hate' is a strong word.” Rakesh: “I have strong opinions.”

Tindri: “I failed my safety training course today.” Jurr: “Why, what happened?” Tindri: “Well one of the questions was 'In case of a fire, what steps would you take?'” Jurr: “And?” Tindri: “Well apparently 'FUCKING LARGE ONES' isn't an acceptable answer.”

Loktof, to the Squad: “I’d die for you.” Rakesh: “Then perish.” Tindri: “You will.” Brakan: “Please don’t.” Linaleh: “Cool.” Jurr: “I’d die for you first.”

Jurr: “What happened to Rakesh?” Linaleh: "He died.” Jurr: "He what?” Linaleh: “He died, but he’s okay.” Jurr: “…Can you please clarify?” Rakesh: “Clarification is for the weak.”

Linaleh: “A party is a celebration of a life, bringing people together to let the guest of honor know how much they’re loved. Rakesh has done so much for us. This is our chance to do something for him.” Brakan: “By forcing him to have fun at a party that he doesn’t want to be at?” Linaleh: “I knew you’d understand.”

Vori: “Some of us are still ‘it’ from a childhood game of tag.” Tindri: "Way to just fuck me up on a Tuesday.”

Rakesh: “You’re drunk.” Tindri: “Correction: drinking. Present tense. Grammar, Rakesh.”

Vori: “I made this friendship bracelet for you.” Linaleh: “You know, I’m not really a jewelry person.” Vori: “You don’t have to wear…” Linaleh: “No, I’m gonna wear it forever. Back off.”

Tindri: dangling from a rope over a pit of fire “Remember when I said I’d tell you when we’re in too deep?” Brakan: “Yes?” Tindri: “We’re in too deep.”

Jurr: “I'm usually that person who has no idea what's going on.”

Rakesh: “Everyone knows that Santa is an invention designed by the big five corporations to sell tinsel and video games to an unsuspecting public.” Linaleh: “The whole 'childhood wonder' stage just blew right past you, didn’t it?”

Vori: “What’s your biggest fear?” Brakan: “That I’ll never be good enough for anyone.” Linaleh: “Everyone hates me and talks about me behind my back.” Tindri: Zombies.” Brakan: “...” Linaleh: “...” Tindri: “BUT they can open doors.”

Vori: “I wish I could control wasps and bees to sting my enemies.” Linaleh: “You’re too young to have enemies.” Vori: “You don’t even know.”

Tindri: “What do I get?” Rakesh: “A night of fashion, mischief, mayhem, and possible death.” Tindri: “Ooh, check, check, and check; not sure about that last one.” Rakesh: “It won't be you.” Tindri: “I'll get my coat.”

Rakesh: “Don't joke about murder. I was murdered once and it offends me.”

Linaleh: “What goes up but never comes down?” Loktof: “The amount of stress you're bringing this family.”

Linaleh: “You're smiling. What happened?” Vori: “What? Can't I smile just because I feel like it?” Jurr: “Rakesh tripped and fell down the stairs today.“

Tindri: “Helpful grammar tip: 'farther' is for physical distance, 'further' is for metaphorical distance, and 'father' is for emotional distance!”

Rakesh: joins the Guard “Who's in charge here?” Linaleh, shrugging: “Usually whoever yells the loudest.”

Rakesh: “Are you tall enough to play basketball though?” Vori: “Are you calling me short?” Rakesh: “I'm calling you vertically challenged.”

Brakan, Linaleh & Rakesh: screaming Loktof: runs into the room “What's wrong, Rakesh?!” Brakan: “Wait, why are you asking Rakesh that when Linaleh and I are also here?” Loktof: “Because Rakesh wouldn't scream unless it's an emergency. You two scream whenever you have the chance.”

Rakesh: coughs blood Tindri: “Don't die, Rakesh!” Rakesh: “Don't tell me what to do.”

Vori: “Sometimes I'll start a sentence and I don't even know where it's going. I just hope I find it along the way.”

Rakesh: “I can't take you seriously wearing that.” Tindri: “Aw, you take me seriously at all?” Rakesh: “Fair point.”

Rakesh: “Vori, what do you have?” Vori: “A KNIFE!” Rakesh: “Okay, have fu-” Linaleh: “NO!”

Rakesh: “You can't wake up if you never got to sleep.”

Vori, holding in their laughter: “Hey, how do you ask a glass of water what it’s doing?” Rakesh: “A glass of water is an inanimate object. Therefore, it's incapable of having a thought process or understanding basic human language.” Vori: Vori: “Water you doing?”

Tindri: “Why would you think any of this was a good idea?” Loktof: “Probably because I’m a dangerous sociopath with a long history of violence.” Tindri: Loktof: “I don’t know how you keep forgetting this.”

Loktof: “You might not know this, Rakesh, but I am a flawed person.” Rakesh: “I do know that.”

Tindri: “I made tea.” Rakesh: “I don't want tea.” Tindri: “I didn't make you tea. This is my tea.” Rakesh: “Then why did you tell me?” Tindri: “It's a conversation starter.” Rakesh: “It's a horrible conversation starter.” Tindri: “Oh, is it? We're conversing. Checkmate.”

Vori: “So... what’s goin’ on?” Tindri: “You want the long version or the short version?” Vori, hesitantly: “The short one, I guess?” Tindri: “Shit’s fucked.” Vori: “Oh. Well, yeah, that’s definitely not an optimal situation.”

Vori, walking into Brakan and Rakesh’s bunkroom in the middle of the night: “I had a bad dream.” Brakan: “What was it about?” Rakesh: “No, don’t ask her that!” Brakan: “Why not?” Rakesh: “Cause she’ll answer!”

Linaleh: “Are we fighting or flirting?” Rakesh: “I'm pinning you against a wall with my hand around your neck-” Linaleh: “Your point?”

Vori: “What are you guys doing?” Rakesh: “Like in life in general or-” Tindri: “Not much. Why, what's up?” Vori: “I dunno, I’m bored playing AC.” Tindri: “Assassins Creed?” Vori: “Animals Creed.” Rakesh: “Assassins Crossing.”

Linaleh: “Who hurt you?” Tindri: snorting “What, do you want a list?” Linaleh: “...Yes, actually.”

Vori: “Can I have your number?” Rakesh, visible texting: “I don't have a phone.”

Tindri: “How would you like to live forever?” Rakesh, whose species literally lives up to seven centuries: “I'd hate it. Shut the fuck up.”

Vori: “Do you know the ABCs of first aid?” Loktof: “A. Bone. Coming out of the skin is very bad.”

Vori: “Is it just me or is instant ramen even better uncooked?” Rakesh: “It’s just you.”

Brakan: “Vori isn't talking to me.” Linaleh: “Enjoy it while it lasts.”

Rakesh: “Stop failing.” Tindri: “Don’t tell me what to do! I'll fail right now!” Tindri: succeeds Tindri: “Dang it!”

Jurr: “Tindri, can I speak to you for a minute? In private.” Tindri: “Ooh, someone's in trouble. It's me. I don't know why I did that.”

Linaleh: “OKAY, YOU KNOW WHAT?! TIME OUT! GET ON TOP OF THE FRIDGE! GET UP THERE!” Rakesh: climbing “THIS HOUSE IS A FUCKING NIGHTMARE!!!”

Brakan: “Rakesh, I beg of you. Please, PLEASE go to the doctor.” Rakesh: “Hey, I'm sorry. Is this OUR stab wound?”

*Linaleh and Tindri looking at a locked gate into a park* Linaleh: “Aw.” :( Tindri: “You know what they say.” Linaleh: “Please don’t-” Tindri: “BE GAY DO CRIME!” hops gate Linaleh: “Frick-”

Linaleh: “It's called cauliflower, not ghost broccoli.” Vori, eyes wide: “I know what I saw.”

Rakesh: “At first I thought you were foolish and incompetent.” Tindri: “My apologies for whatever misstep I may have taken to dispel that impression. It was an honest mistake, I swear.”

Linaleh: “I wish I was a cat, but not in a furry kinda way, more like a 'I can sleep all day and hit people with no consequences' kinda way.”

Jurr: “Well, has Vori been wrong before?” Rakesh: “How wide are we willing to open this up?”

*Comments under an image of a really hot knife cutting bread* Tindri: “Imagine stabbing someone with this knife.” Rakesh: “It would instantly cauterize the wound, so the person wouldn't bleed, so it's not very useful.” Loktof: "If you want information it is.” Brakan: "Why would you STAB a person when you can have TOAST?”

Tindri, spraying a melted cutting board with a tiny water gun: “We gotta cool this bitch down. Cool it down.” Linaleh: “I actually just put the cutting board in the oven...” Brakan, visibly confused: “Okay, so they decided to put the cutting board in the oven?” Tindri, spraying Linaleh: “You FUCKING DUMBASS!” Linaleh: “Dude, I forgot-” Tindri: “OH MY FUCKING GOD! We're trying to make Chicken Alfredo right now, and you fucking MELT the cutting board in the oven at 400 DEGREES FAHRENHEIT!?” Rakesh: watching in complete confusion while trying to process this whole situation

Linaleh: “We’ll find another route, it’s not safe for amateur adventurers.” Vori: “That sounds like a challenge.” Linaleh: “I have to stress, that is not a challenge.” Vori: “...Is exactly what you say to dissuade the weak of heart from accepting the challenge. Well, challenge accepted!” Linaleh: “There is no challenge!”

Rakesh: “My expectations are low, but they can always go lower.”

Loktof: “Have you done this before?” Rakesh: “Well, Loktof, it's like if you read the script you come better prepared.” Linaleh: “That's not what we do in the Guard, we don't read things.” Loktof: “I don't read, Rakesh.”

Tindri: “We can bake these cookies at 400 degrees for 10 minutes or 4,000 degrees for 1 minute.” Rakesh: “No, that's not how you make cookies.” Linaleh: “FLOOR IT!!” Tindri: “How about 4,000,000 degrees for 1 second?!?” Rakesh: “yOU'RE GONNA BURN THE HOUSE DOWN-” Tindri: “I'M GONNA HARNESS THE POWER OF THE FUCKING SUN TO MAKE COOKIES!” Loktof: “DO IT!” Rakesh: “NO-”

Rakesh: “My assistance will be an act of beneviolence.” Linaleh: “...Don’t you mean benevolence?” Rakesh: "No.”

Loktof: picks up hammer and breaks ringing cell phone

Vori: “Where are you going?” Rakesh: “Hell, eventually.”

Rakesh: “If I die, you can have what little I own.” Brakan: “Wait. What do you mean 'if' you die?” Rakesh: “My unending existence is fuelled by pure spite, that of which the painful experiences of life have rendered me full.” Brakan: Brakan: sighs “Let me call your therapist again.”

[sk-willow]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Sheev Palpatine & Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker Characters: Sheev Palpatine | Darth Sidious, Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Padawan Character(s) Additional Tags: AllSWMultiWeek2022, Canon Compliant, Sith Shenanigans (Star Wars), Sith Rule of Two (Star Wars), Jedi Temple Crèche (Star Wars), Padawan Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Temple (Star Wars) Series: Part 3 of ASW_MW-2022 Summary:

Darth Sidious camina por el templo Jedi, admirando a sus futuros aprendices en la guardería de los Jedi.

[ddejavvu]

Betrayal - Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Summary: months into the war and it's not as exhilarating as you'd hoped - not for your battalion, anyway. when the air conditioning in your compound blows, an old friend brings his tech genius of a padawan to fix it for you. while anakin is working, you convince his master to spar for old times' sake, and simple adrenaline gives way to a landslide of long-buried feelings neither of you should have for each other.

Contents/Warnings: smut, minors dni, fem!reader, jedi!reader, reader is a general, sweat kink (? they are really sweaty and i talk about it a lot), oral (m+f receiving), semi-public sex (risk of being caught), sparring, lightsaber use, throatfucking, messy kisses, scratching/marking, lotsa spit, obligatory 'had you said the word' (sorry satine i had to steal his line)

WC: 16.9K / navigation / inbox

A/N: sorry this took me so long to finish! i didn't have time to write for like two months but it's done now and i hope you enjoy it <3 this is set a couple months/a year into the clone wars, but i have chosen to fuck with their ages a little bit. in this, anakin is like 12-14-ish, even though he was older in AOTC when the war began.

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

Neglecting the option of taking a padawan under your wing is what stuck you on this humid, blazing, hellish planet, and you almost regret it. You’d wanted more freedom in your duties, didn’t want a youngling clinging to your leg begging for help with their rudimentary saber drills, so instead you swapped it for what you thought would be constant battle, exhilarating speeder chases, and the glory of proving yourself. Unbecoming of a Jedi to wish for, yes, but you’ve never claimed to be Council-worthy.

Now your butt is sticking to the chair you’re planted in, overlooking a very empty, very desolate, very boring outpost. It’s so hot that you think you’ve melted into the chair and fused with its fabric. Standing might tear your skin away from your flesh, leaving an imprint of you behind in your seat.

“General,” One of your clone troopers calls, sticking his head through the doorway to your station, “Nothing on my scanners.”

“Nor on mine,” You drawl lazily, “We’re scheduled to be inspected today. Any word from the crew?”

“None.” He laments, “I just hope they bring a droid that can fix the cooler.”

The base you’re stationed to isn’t always this disgusting. The structure is wired with an air conditioning system to keep the inside much cooler than the outside, but after a rather unfortunate incident with a freshly manufactured astromech droid with some crossed wirings, both lay broken and singed in the maintenance bay. Your clones don’t know how to tinker with droids or heating systems, and you’d probably wind up just as ash-covered if you tried.

“Alert me when they land,” You order the trooper, leaning your forehead against the cool metal of the scanner screen before you, “I want to have time to change into an outfit I haven’t soaked through with sweat.”

The scanner grows warm against your flushed skin far too soon. Everything is hot, and sticky, and gross, and you find yourself yearning for the cold showers you used to despise at the temple. Perhaps you yearn for the temple in general, for the familial atmosphere shared among overconfident Padawans and exasperated Masters. You think specifically of Obi-Wan Kenobi, a man you’d trained with, now Master to his apprentice Skywalker.

You haven’t seen the pair in years, but you remember Anakin’s blonde mop of hair, as well as his penchant for chaos. Watching Obi-Wan’s eyes fill with horror at whatever shenanigans his Padawan had gotten into that day was part of what helped you make the decision to decline one yourself, though you hold no distaste for the boy. He was simply young and untrained in the ways of the Jedi, and you were not a patient enough person to gracefully navigate that predicament then. You’re not sure you are now, either.

Even though you know you’re better suited on your own, you wonder if you’d have been more fulfilled with a Padawan learner of your own. Surely anything could be better than this, wasting away- rotting on a planet hot enough to boil your blood if you stepped outside without proper protection.

Your base is secluded and temperature-controlled, even if the contraption that the Republic had fashioned under pressure of time to keep you isolated is rather crude. It’s, in essence, a large dome, seals in place to ensure that vessels can land and takeoff without destroying the temperature control. It’s cooler within the dome than it is outside of it, but the hurriedly-designed system can only do too much, and you greatly depend on the air conditioning to do its job. Now that it’s not, you’re irritated from the heat, and you wish that the inspection team would just hurry up already. The patience you’d had drilled into you from your early years as a Youngling is nowhere to be found under the pressure of a heat wave, and your foot taps impatiently against the floor while you itch for some action.

You think it’s rather pathetic that you yearn for excitement so badly that you’re anxiously awaiting the inspection team. Their job takes barely an hour, a scan of your equipment and a survey of your troops. They’ll walk in and out without so much as a pleasantry, but you long for something new, something more, something exciting.

The call over your comms comes over an hour later, a time in which you remain at your post but begrudge it all the while. “General,” Your trooper barks, voice staticky and rough over the channel, “We’ve got visitors. Inspection team’s here. Initiating landing procedure.”

“Copy that,” You bolt out of your seat, barely remembering to lean over the microphone to reply, “Thank you.”

Finally.

Finally, someone new to talk to, even if they have the same face as everyone else you’ve spoken to on this long, dreary assignment. You’re friendly with your troopers, of course, but that itch for more is back in your brain, igniting you with vigor you don’t normally possess as you rush to greet the inspection team.

However, when you reach the landing bay, and the ship’s hydraulics hiss, clone troopers aren’t the only ones to disembark. Jedi robes make their appearance, shrouding the very man you’d just thought about, as well as the child by his side. 

Obi-Wan wears the years that have passed since you last saw him, but time has treated him well. His hair is longer now, gone is that stiff Padawan buzz. His braid is missing as well, giving way to luscious strawberry blonde strands that he’s slicked back so that they drag against the back and sides of his neck. Longer hair looks good on him, just as it had when he was fifteen and had refused a haircut for months in a typical, if rather tame, display of teenage rebellion. Anakin is also significantly older than you’d kept track of, but he can’t be older than fourteen if his lanky limbs and awkward demeanor are any evidence.

Obi-Wan smiles at you, and you nearly forget to shove down that shameful part of you that wants to take more out of him than he can give you. Even as Padawans you’d always gravitated towards the man opposite you, sneaking out to roam the gardens after hours together or sharing sly glances across mission briefings. But he’s an honorable Jedi Master - a member of the Council itself, so you’ve heard - and you wrestle down your repressed feelings to grin at him.

“General Y/L/N,” He greets with a smile so charming you lament that the Jedi Order interrupted his chances of being a model.

“Master Kenobi,” You greet, but you know he’ll chide you for the honorific if you use it more than once, “I wasn’t aware you’d be on the inspection team.”

“We’re not. Technically.” Obi-Wan admits, arm coming to press against Anakin’s back and nudge him forwards, “We got word that your air conditioning system is out, as well as one of your new astromechs. Anakin here is still an excellent mechanic, I thought we’d come out to offer you some reprieve from the heat.”

Anakin looks embarrassed by the attention that’s fallen upon him, in typical pubescent fashion, and you take pity on the timid teenager, casting your glance back at his Master, “Maker, thank you. We’re melting out here.”

“I can imagine,” Obi-Wan laughs, and you turn again to Anakin who’s anxiously awaiting your orders.

“Anakin, if you could fix our air conditioning, that would be wonderful. Honestly, I’m not even sure I want the droid fixed, it’s what got us into this mess in the first place. But they’re both over there,” You point to the shorted out panels, “And my troopers will offer you any supplies you need, like tools or wiring or refreshments.”

“Thank you.” Anakin nods, hands clasped behind his back obediently even if he looks mortified to be the center of attention once more, “I’ll have things up and running as soon as possible.”

“I’m leaving you here,” Obi-Wan warns the boy, pointing an accusatory finger at him, “I don’t often leave you alone with machinery and tools, Anakin, for reasons we’re both aware of. Promise me you will not do anything reckless?”

“I promise,” Anakin mutters reluctantly, and you avert your eyes so he has some semblance of privacy.

“I mean it, Anakin. This is no time to experiment with your technical prowess. You simply fix their system and you wait for me back on the ship, understand?”

“Master,” Anakin pleads, “I understand.”

“Very well. Get to your duties,” Obi-Wan dismisses the boy, turning to you only after he sees his Padawan crouch by the singed panel.

“He shouldn’t take long. He most likely will try to tinker with the astromech, though.” Obi-Wan smiles sympathetically, “He’s not one to leave a droid unusable.”

“I remember he had a particular talent for mechanics,” You muse, starting off towards the main base intent on leading Obi-Wan to your rec room, “If I recall correctly, he figured out how to inconspicuously rewire his communicator to give you an ‘unavailable’ signal if he didn’t like what you were asking him to do.”

Obi-Wan scoffs as he lets you lead through the doorway, “Yes, my Padawan has always had very selective hearing. I’m sure you don’t mind not having one of your own.”

“That’s one of the reasons I justify my choice,” You chuckle, letting the door shut behind you as you make your way through the halls. The base that the Republic had granted you is spacious, even decked out with training facilities and rec rooms interspersed throughout your rows of quarters, but it’s unbearably hot and you’re tired of being cooped up inside of it.

“This isn’t bad for a base,” Obi-Wan muses, robes swishing behind him as he strides beside you, “But I hope Anakin fixes that cooling system soon.”

“Try being stationed here permanently,” You scoff, tugging at the sweat-soaked neckline of your tunic, “I have long since abandoned my robes.”

“Do you have somewhere I could set this?” Obi-Wan asks, fingers catching the front of his cloak as he slings it off. It falls gracefully from his shoulders, and he holds the garment up as he laments still having to wear the rest of his robes.

“You can leave it in my quarters,” You veer sharply to the right, letting him catch up, “They’re just down this hallway.”

There’s unmarked doors on either side of the corridor, and you’re still impressed that each clone trooper knows where their bed is at night. Your door has a plaque beside its frame that reads ‘General’s Quarters,’ and you’re not confident that you could navigate the halls without it. You type in your access code, and the door slides open with a hiss.

“Just set it on the bed,” You gesture towards your mattress, “If we have some time, I thought,” You reach into the closet, pulling out your seldom-used lightsaber, “We could spar.”

Obi-Wan laughs, discarding his cloak onto your bed as his eyes crinkle happily at the corners, “You’re lacking a bit of excitement here, aren’t you, Y/N? There’s no way you’d duel me willingly after I took you down the last time.”

You’d sparred together since you’d been handed a saber for the first time. Sure, your initial weapons were wooden, then training blades designed to be duller than their more advanced counterparts, before you’d finally been granted allowance to manufacture one of your own. But there were no more dedicated sparring partners than the two of you, and you can tell the man opposite you is fond of the reminder you’ve given him, even if he is trying to tease you.

“You did not take me down,” You gawp, “I mean- yes, I was on the floor, but I wasn’t done! You didn’t win!”

“Mm, yes. I didn’t win because no one did.” Obi-Wan sends you a sly grin, “Anakin interrupted us, don’t you remember? We never got to finish.”

“Then a rematch,” You insist, gesturing towards the open doorway, “Once and for all we’ll prove who the better duelist is.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll win. After all, I can tell you spend every waking moment practicing and making sure you lose none of your fighting abilities,” Obi-Wan’s hand darts out to switch on your holotable, revealing an in-progress game of chess. You’re losing.

“I’ve only been using that as of late,” You snap, defensive, “It’s insufferable to train without proper ventilation. And only when I’m not on duty. I don’t spend all of my time sitting and playing chess.”

“Losing at chess.” Obi-Wan arches an eyebrow, finally stepping out of your quarters so that you can shut it once more, “Come, Y/N, show me to your training grounds.”

The training room is just as hot as everywhere else on the base. You walk through the doors and humid air greets you, something that wrinkles Obi-Wan’s nose and rustles his mustache.

 “God, I hope your Padawan knows what he’s doing,” You groan, rolling up the sleeves of your own tunic but jumping excitedly into action despite the heat. You ignite your saber, slightly embarrassed by the thrill that the weapon gives you as it thrums to life. You haven’t felt this in a long time, at least, not paired with the thrill of battle. It’s significantly less awe-inspiring to ignite a saber against a training droid you know wouldn’t be able to singe your tunics if you stood stock still. Obi-Wan brings his to life as well; blue and green lights bathe your faces.

“I’ll go easy on you.” He smiles infuriatingly, cocking his head slightly to one side, “Ready?”

“Ready.” You jolt right, a fakeout before you dart left instead. He catches on rather quickly, though, and his blade clashes against yours as you aim for his leg.

“Nice start,” Obi-Wan admits, “But you can’t rely on misdirection for your entire fight. You’ll have to overpower me.”

“I could easily overpower you,” You swing left, breaking the contact of your two sabers, then jabbing so that he has to move his foot out of the way to avoid the plasma. He stumbles, barely catching himself against his back foot, but it gives you time enough to bring your blade up and around to nick at his shoulder, a hole now slashed into his tunic.

“Okay,” He stands straight, eyeing the tear in his clothing warily, “I won’t go easy on you.”

“Never underestimate your opponent,” You tease proudly, saber still ignited, “That’s one for me, Obi-Wan.”

“That doesn’t count,” He scoffs, standing at the ready, “I told you I’d go easy on you. Now I’m serious.”

“All I’m hearing is excuses,” You gloat, feet light as you step around him, “You lead this time, Kenobi.”

He does. He swings downwards, and you block your face with your own blade to stop him. He nearly jabs at your gut before you can prevent it, and you feel the heat from his blade as your own comes to block his.

You fling his weapon away with yours, and he lets you. After such a long period of no action (and shamefully little meditation) your abilities with the Force have grown slightly weaker, as have your regulatory skills. You can still sense what he’s going to do when he squares his shoulders, but you’re almost not fast enough to interpret those senses, and you barely make it to block him from swinging his blade in a fiery circle that would clip the edge of your arm.

“You’re rusty,” He taunts, his own Force abilities stronger than ever as his presence seeps through the cracks in your mind. You try to force him out, but it takes effort, and it’s effort you can’t expend elsewhere. It means that you can’t foresee his intent to aim for your face, and his blade hums inches away from your cheek as he holds it there.

You freeze; you’re caught.

We’re even,” You grunt, sweat beading at your forehead, “But we’re not finished.”

“Hang on,” He disengages his saber, letting the apparatus clatter to the ground as he tugs at one of the outer layers of his robes, “I’m going to shed a few things.”

“Stripping will not help your cause.” You tease, “I’m not distracted by sex appeal.”

Clearly, he isn’t expecting your jab, and he lets his mouth fall open as he slings off one of his garments, an incredulous laugh filling his throat.

“Y/N. You’ve obtained a foul mouth somewhere along your career. It certainly wasn’t in the temple.”

“It’s the clones,” You groan, “Try being stationed with a troop of grown men who went through puberty in record time. They’ve got the appetite of an adult with the filter of a teenage boy.”

“They’ve never tried anything with you,” Obi-Wan narrows his eyes questioningly, and you try to avoid looking at the sweat glistening against his tanned neck as he strips to his base layer.

“No, they’re respectful.” You assure him, “Just crass.”

“Yes, well,” Obi-Wan frowns distastefully, “They haven’t had Jedi training. I suppose I’m not surprised.”

He stands there for a moment with only his undershirt covering his chest, then decides that it’s still too warm, tugging at its hem to raise it over his head.

You feel your insides ignite with a fire you haven’t felt in a long time when his bare chest is exposed, skin marred and riddled with coarse, wiry hair. His stomach is flat but not as tight as you remember in your youth, softer now. You can tell there’s an impressive layer of muscle beneath the milky white skin, though, even if it’s not outwardly visible. He uses his tunic to wipe the sweat off of his face so you’re granted a moment to ogle him, your mouth watering as you try to conceal your thoughts. 

“Okay. Enough with this child’s play.” You shake your head, letting Obi-Wan have just enough time to toss aside his tunic before you plant your feet against the mat. Obi-Wan stands at the ready, both of your sabers ignited, “I want a real match. A long one, now that we’re warmed up. Best two out of three, Kenobi. Winner takes all.”

“Winner gets to stand in front of the air conditioning vent when Anakin gets it up and running,” Obi-Wan suggests, sweat trailing down his neck and over his chest. You avert your eyes, lest the fraile state of mind you’re in betrays you.

“Fine.” You shrug, reaching for the hem of your vest. It’s tactical, good for keeping with you on duty, but it’s etching lines of sweat into your back now. You sling it off, letting it land in a heap similar to Obi-Wan’s robes, and exposing the tank top you have on beneath it. “I know just the one I’ll pick. In my room, there’s one just above the bed. Maybe I’ll let it hit my back while I win at holochess.”

“I think the heat might be getting to you,” Obi-Wan cracks, a slight heave to his chest as he tries regulating his breathing. It’s hard when you’re as hot as you are to get enough oxygen, and you’re doing the same. It’s awfully difficult not to indulge in the view of his bare chest rapidly rising and falling, and you feel a tug below your gut as a vision flashes through your mind. It’s of what else could make him pant in such a way, and you can’t afford to entertain the thought, not around him. “I’m not sure which outcome is more delusional; that you’ll win this duel, or that you’ll win at holochess.”

“You’re wasting time,” You croon, charging with your blade poised for battle so that you have no more time to fantasize, “I think you’re scared.”

“Do I feel afraid?” Obi-Wan laughs, blocking your attack with little effort and redoubling to launch one of his own. The clatter of your sabers almost drowns out his words, “Reach out, Y/L/N, all you’ll feel is confidence.”

“I’m not sure I could feel you if I tried,” You lament, chest heaving as you block one of his swings, “Not while my mind is occupied with our duel. I am rusty, you were right.”

“Practice more,” He chides, “Less chess, more meditation.”

“One is a lot more boring than the other!” You groan, barely managing to get your arm up in time to take a shot at his own, “And the less boring one is chess, so that’s really saying something.”

“It may be boring but it is beneficial,” Obi-Wan lectures you, and you wonder if he thinks you’re still a Padawan. You fight with heaving breaths and monumental effort, the heat sucking your energy out through the sweat that drips down your skin. He turns and his back is glistening, which is really not a sight that helps you to stay focused.

“Now I’m starting to see why Anakin tinkered with his communicator,” You call, as Obi-Wan whirls around your left side, “You’re very dull as a Jedi Master!”

You have to throw yourself onto the floor to avoid a swing at your head, your right shoulder aching as you do so. But you scramble away from him, righting yourself and miraculously avoiding the blade of your saber coming into contact with the training mat.

You stumble to your knees, driving the forward momentum you have against Obi-Wan as he tries blocking you. You nearly get a nick out of his pants, but he pushes you backwards with the threat of his blade, and you fall with your back to the mat.

Your stomach drops when a blue blade hums hot and bright near your throat, its tip directed at your jugular. It doesn’t matter that it’s on its training setting; it’s inescapable and daunting when it’s an inch from your skin. You’re done for. 

“I may be dull,” Obi-Wan pants, beard glistening as sweat streams down his neck. His chest heaves as he speaks, bare and open for your eyes, and his pink tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth to dart along his lips, “But I am victorious. Does this remind you a little bit of the last time we fought?”

It does. He’d been standing over you then as he is now, and you’d had to fortify your mind back then not to let slip vulgar thoughts about being on the floor below him. His thighs, meaty with muscle and strong from training, are hidden behind loose pants, but their crotch has tightened slightly, a chub to what should be a relaxed surface.

A pang of arousal shoots down your spine, and suddenly the lightsaber near your throat isn’t the most daunting thing in the room. It’s Obi-Wan.

He swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing as you lay beneath him.

“Your thoughts betray you,” He observes, and you feel his invasive presence in your mind, sucking out the private thoughts coursing through your brain. They’re of panting breaths, heaving chests, wandering hands, and meshing tongues; passionate embraces, intimate attachments. Things no Jedi should fantasize about, not under the code. Things that should bring shame to you, and maybe they do, and maybe you like it.

“Your body betrays you,” You’re able to muster, swallowing the saliva pooling in your mouth as you glance pointedly at his bulge. It’s only grown since you’d last glanced at it; evidently your visions did something to him too.

He sees, or perhaps, feels what you see, freezes, then clicks his saber off. The blade retracts with a hiss and there is a distinct vacuum of sound where its humming once was. He breaks the unnerving silence with a clatter as he tosses it aside, feet still firmly planted on either side of your hips. 

“It’s natural.” He weakly supplies, a poor defense, “It’s adrenaline-fueled, nothing more.”

“Really? So when you duel sith lords, when you chop the heads off of battle droids, you walk away with a stiff dick?” You carefully observe his body language, feet poised like he might bolt if you make any sudden moves. He’s flighty, and you have to make your next moves carefully.”

“Y/N,” He begins, his voice weak, “I wish you wouldn’t use such foul language.”

“Is it the language that bothers you?” You push your elbows against the mat, hoisting yourself up at an obtuse angle to meet his eye better, “Or is it the truth it carries? Obi-Wan, you were right. It’s natural. And it is not something to be ashamed of.”

“It is against the Code,” He reasons, his voice still fighting to sound resolute. He offers no other reasoning, and you know it’s because he has none.

“It’s not.” You insist, “The Code is ancient and rigid. And celibacy is not required, only a level head.”

“That’s the problem,” He chuckles weakly, “I don’t have a level head when it comes to you, Y/N.”

“You seem as though you do.” You press cautiously, careful not to push your luck, “I’ve never felt anything unprofessional about your feelings towards me.”

“That’s because I haven’t been around you in a long time,” He admits, “Not consistently. I was better at controlling it- no, hiding it when we were Padawans. I had to do it every day, it was natural to me. But I am out of practice now, and I have been since you were stationed here. I barely have the ability to hide how I feel about you, Y/N. And- and it is not something the Council would approve of.”

You sit up now, fully straightened. You’re still between his legs, but you’d need to rise to your knees for your face to be level with his bulge. You plan to.

“The Council is not here. Nor can they see us, or hear us, or feel us. They will not know what we do, Obi-Wan.”

“I will know.” He breathes, his voice growing weaker each time he tries raising it against you, “Y/N, I will never forget a thing we do together on this base. If we… If you touch me, I will remember every brush of your skin against mine for eternity. If you- kiss me, I will never be able to put the thought of your lips on mine out of my head. And I would not know how to live without it for the rest of my life.”

Your heart sinks in your stomach like a stone in water. He’s loyal to the Order, he always has been. But you’d been so blinded by isolation, so convinced by your own delusions, that you’d assumed his loyalty to you would be stronger. But it’s not, and you can’t earnestly be angry with him for it.

You swallow what little saliva has accumulated around your tongue to give yourself something to do, then rise to your feet.

“It sounds like you should walk away.” You mutter regretfully. His eyes hold the same feelings, strikingly painful. He nods, almost imperceptibly, but before he can follow your orders, you continue.

“But will you forgive yourself if you do?”

You feel it, his swell of emotions. Every single one is unbridled, yearning, heartache, fondness, want; all of them unleashed from the man whose mind is usually a fortress. They’re washing over you like waves, invading your brain and turning your thoughts their colors. 

“No. I couldn’t,” He admits, “But-” and there’s always a but, “The Council would never forgive me if I didn’t.”

“They won’t know.” You insist, but it’s lost on him, “Obi-Wan, please make a decision. Who is more important, you or the Council?” Then in a more timid, soft voice, as his soft eyes bore into you and beg for mercy, you give him the opposite, “Who is more important… me or the Council?”

He kisses you. There is no warning, no shift in his Force signature, only his hands on your face and his lips on your own. There is strength in his touch, his hands firm where they pull your cheeks ever-so-slightly towards his face as if he’s trying to mash them into his own. His beard is rough and grating against your face, but it’s not unpleasant, especially when it brings with it his lips. His lips, which are much softer than you’d have imagined them, merely frame your own. The kiss is sweet but chaste, and the only indication you have that he wants more is the way that he holds you against him. Otherwise you’d mistake his courtesy for disinterest, and you tilt your head slightly sideways to encourage more enthusiasm from him.

When your lips reconnect he sighs, a breath from his nose that fans over your top lip. He’s letting you lead, letting you dictate whether you want to keep kissing him or whether you’ll suddenly switch positions; it’s like he’s afraid that you’ll rip off a mask and reveal yourself to be Master Windu, scolding him for his reckless passion. But of course you don’t, and you lick gently against the plush of his bottom lip instead.

He hums at the feeling of your tongue against his mouth, but he’s suddenly pushing against your cheeks instead of pulling.

“Are you absolutely sure,” He starts, but can’t seem to resist the temptation to steal another kiss from your spit-slicked lips, “That you- mm, that you want this? Because I cannot-” He breaks off with a weary, pleading, defeated look in his beautiful eyes, “I cannot turn back if we go further. If we proceed… I will not be able to forget what we do. If you’re not interested… please tell me now, so that I may save myself from loving you for an eternity that you do not wish to share with me.”

You scoff, moving in for another kiss at his lips. He doesn’t reciprocate, only pushing you back so that you can respond.

“I just spent five minutes,” You pant, desperate to reconnect your lips, “Bargaining with you to get you to forget about your nerves. And you don’t think I want this?”

You try surging forwards again but he holds you back, eyes still begging for your words.

“Please. I need to hear you say it.” He seems almost self-conscious, worried you’re not interested in him the same way he’s interested in you. But you have been since you can remember, and you’re more than willing to work around the unconventional aspects of your relationship if it means you can have him, even just for today.

“I want you,” You breathe, the exhale hitting his lips, “Please- Obi-Wan, I want you. I want you no matter what the Code says. No matter what the Council says; I want you.”

He looks like he could cry. He is devoted to the Order, far more than you have seen most Jedi, and to hear you choose him over the Code must mean a great deal. He pours passion into the kiss you share, chest filling with oxygen that he gulps just to be able to keep his mouth on yours for longer. He consumes you, fingers pulling at your cheeks and tugging you closer still, like he thinks you might fuse if he tries hard enough.

He groans into your mouth, his tongue more exploratory now that you’ve pledged your devotion to him. He’s not afraid of taking now, of getting his hopes up only to be thrown down, and he swipes the wet muscle in a hot stripe over your own tongue. He rolls it against your lower lip, so wonderful to kiss for someone with such lacking experience.

“No one is coming,” You breathe, exhaling against his mouth as your hands wander to his waistband, “No one- no one can see us.”

“I want you in your quarters.” He protests, grabbing your wrists when your hand sinks to his bulge and ghosts over it. He jolts at the unexpected contact, but holds you back, “I want to lay you down, Y/N, I want to indulge in every part of you. Worship you.”

“I will let you,” You moan, tilting your forehead against his and mouthing at his lips in a sloppy kiss, “You may have me any way you want, Obi-Wan. But here, I- I want to have you. I need to have you now,”

“Impatient,” He notes, sounding suspiciously close to lecturing you. But he lets your wrists go, and you sink to your knees instantly. He hears them hit the training mat, knows they must ache, but he can’t find any part of him available to worry about it, not now that your hands are prying greedily at the waistband of his trousers.

He’s a near stranger to physical pleasure, at least in recent years. He’s a grown man, he has urges, but he also has responsibilities, and the constant pressure of an ambitious (read: reckless) young Padawan under his supervision mixed with a quickly-rising rank within the Jedi Order leave him with little time nor interest to indulge in his barest desires. Your hand gently squeezing his clothed bulge as you wrestle with his pants nearly knocks him off of his feet, and he’s not sure he’ll be able to handle having your warm mouth envelop it.

Finally you tug loose the drawstring within his pants, and yank them down his thighs. They’re seldom bare, you see from the milky white tone of the skin there, but they are muscled and thick like he does not neglect them.

You can’t help yourself when you lean forwards, tongue already protruding from your mouth to lick a fat, wet stripe around one of his thighs. It’s sturdy beneath your tongue that dips into the crease between his skin and the parts of it that are covered by his briefs. His muscles tense like you’ve struck him with a fatal blow, and an open-mouthed groan escapes his lips.

His skin tastes of the sweat that’s currently moistening every inch of your bodies, salty and tantalizing. There’s no escaping it in the brutal heat, but it makes him all the more sexy, his skin glistening before you even get a chance to smear it in your saliva.

You’re guilty of impatience as he accuses, and you can’t resist mouthing at his covered bulge. He’s half-hard, but when your lips purse around the outline of his cock in his briefs he twitches, and you feel him stiffen against the restraints of his underwear on your tongue. 

His knees give out with no warning, and he barely has the foresight to grab desperately at a bench press behind him for stability. He falls quickly to its surface, perching on the edge of it while you desperately chase his cock. You fit your mouth again over his briefs and drool against the fabric, surely soaking it through with your saliva. His cock, though restrained, is heavy and thick on your tongue, making your mouth water and produce enough drool to soak through his entire ensemble. His hands clutch the bench beneath him with white knuckles, and he grits his teeth to stop himself from shouting as you suck at his clothed cock.

“Oh, Y/N,” He pants, voice strained as you get lost in your task and forget that you need to actually pull his briefs down. He reaches for your head, gently nudging you away with his knuckles against your temple.

“Darling, please, I can’t- I won’t last for very long. Please, have me properly.”

He grips at the waistband of his underwear, tugging them down hurriedly and letting his cock spring free. It’s of decent length, but slightly thicker than average, its base shrouded by a patch of curled hair at his groin. It’s a similar caramel color to the rest of his hair, and his sweat has accumulated particularly within its wiry constraints, leaving him musky. The smell might bother you if it were anyone else, if you were anywhere else, but here and now, on your knees for Obi-Wan in the training room, it’s the most disgustingly tantalizing thing you’ve ever smelled in your entire life.

That’s why you bury your face into it, the hair tickling at your skin. His hips jolt as you inhale deeply near the base of his cock, groaning and letting your tongue fall to drag against just the shaft of his erect dick. He’s painfully hard, embarrassingly seconds to orgasm, and your spit now glistening on his length doesn’t help. Or it helps too much; either way, he’s close to cumming and you haven’t even had a chance to put him in your mouth.

“Darling,” He begs, pushing at your forehead once more, speaking through an eternal shortage of breath, “Please, I- it all feels too good. I can’t take it. I won’t last long.”

“That’s okay,” You pant, your breath falling over his cock as it practically pulses with pleasure, “We’re here for a good time, not a long time.”

“Terrible,” He manages to chuckle weakly, but any further chiding he has planned for your cheekiness is cut short when he stops breathing. He actually forgets how when your wet mouth closes around the head of his cock, your tongue licking flat over its head and covering most of its surface area. It’s so much sensation so fast that Obi-Wan has to clench his hands around the bench not to cum right then and there, and he feels pinpricks of pain over his skin that he realizes are from his fingernails digging against his palms. When you draw your head back off of his cock with a slick sound, then move in again to take more of his length into your mouth, his lungs suddenly remember their function, and heave within his chest.

His groans are filthy and they only pool more slick wetness between your thighs as you kneel for him. You don’t care about the ache in your knees, nor the pain in your neck from the slightly awkward angle you’re indulging in him at. All that matters is his cock, heavy and thick on your tongue, sweat and precum alike flooding your taste buds. 

His restraint is put to the test. He’s a member of the Jedi Council, for Force’s sake, and he should have a little more control over himself than this. But it takes almost all of his energy not to buck his hips forwards and plunge the length of his cock down your throat, and it means that he’s not able to devote as much restraint to delaying his orgasm as he’d like.

He’s twitching in your mouth, and even with your faded Force abilities, mental muscles weakened by disuse, you can feel the tension coursing through his veins, hot and wild. You don’t need to look at his strained, white-knuckled grip on the edge of the bench to know that he’s devoting all of his energy to restraining himself, and you take pride in being able to undo Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi with merely your mouth. You indulge in his painful hardness, tongue smoothly caressing the underside of his length as you bob your head back and forth around him. Each time you draw back you flick your tongue up and over the ruddy, leaking head of his cock, something that makes that fiery tension in his body glow even hotter.

“I’m going to-” He warns you, voice petering out weakly as he tries controlling himself, “I can’t- I can’t help it, I’m going to cum.”

“Cum,” You speak in unison, your word coming out muffled as you speak it against his cock. You smooth your hands up his thighs, feeling his muscles impossibly tight beneath your fingers. You stroke them soothingly, encouraging him to unclench his jaw that’s wired so tightly that you’re sure his teeth are on the verge of cracking, “Cum, Obi-Wan, please.”

Even if you hadn’t asked him so kindly, he’s sure he wouldn’t have been able to withhold any longer. Not with your pretty eyes gazing up at him from between his legs, lashes latticing the tender emotions swirling in your gaze. Your fingers slide calmly, sweetly over the expanse of his thighs, and the mere thought of you digging your nails harshly into them and leaving marks is what elicits the final twitch of his dick on your tongue.

Evidently, you’re more in tune with his thoughts than he’d expected. You’d caught the quick image that had flashed through his mind, now completely unguarded to you, and you curl your fingers quicker than he can comprehend, carving searing marks into his thighs that will show up red for at least a week. Paired with the movement of your fingers, you suck hard at his cock, plunging your face forwards to nestle against the base once more. His tip hits the back of your throat with force and it makes you gag, and Obi-Wan isn’t sure what sensation is more overwhelming: the vivid burning at his thighs, the way the tip of his dick nestles so securely into the warm, wet sleeve of your throat, or the way that you’re breathing in his sweat-marred scent like it’s the purest oxygen you’ve ever had in your lungs. All he knows is that together, they’re his undoing, and he lets out a rugged cry; he can’t control himself any longer when pleasure roars through him with a fury he’s almost frightened of. 

He’s always calm, collected, in control. But now he’s grabbing your face with shaking hands as he pumps warm spurts of cum down your throat, holding your jaw steady so that you can’t back away, not that you want to. He holds you in place while his thighs begin to tremble, your tongue continuously smoothing over the underside of his cock while it twitches in your mouth. He keeps himself fully nestled into the back of your throat while he cums, and if he had energy to be embarrassed about cumming as much as he was, he’d be apologizing. But he can’t, not when you’re swallowing him so eagerly, throat convulsing around the head of his cock and only milking more out of him. There’s obscene groans coming from his mouth, the kind that bring heat to your own core, and you think you could get off to the sound a thousand times over if you recorded him now. They’re deep, throaty, and desperate as he holds your face around his cock, gagging you on his dick as his orgasm takes control of him.

A part of your training that hasn’t left you yet was your extensive disaster training, in which you were taught how to extend the time for which you could hold your breath. That comes in especially handy when Obi-Wan’s hands cradle your jaw, keeping you snugly choking around his dick. You have to fight not to draw back at the strange sensation of your throat being plugged while his cum splatters against the back of it,, and you use all of your strength to keep yourself from panicking at the lack of airflow. You’re only slightly ashamed to admit that you’d willingly die like this, a fucktoy for his cock.

Once his orgasm has worked its way through him he seems to remember you can’t breathe, all of the tension having leaked out of his muscles. He inhales with a start, pushing against your cheeks and tugging his cock out of your mouth, “Oh, Y/N, darling- Y/N, are you-?” 

At the sight of your spit-soaked lips, tongue desperately running over them to collect any of the sweat that had accumulated there from being pressed against his pelvis, he lunges forwards to meet his lips with your own. He can taste the slight savory hint of his own release, your tongues meshing wetly and messily. He’s hunching now, even though you’ve straightened up on your knees, and he feels you clumsily palm at his dick, tucking him back away into his briefs. It makes his lips go slack with a gasp even though he’s just finished, and he’s more than eager to take you by the wrists and help you to your feet. You toss his undershirt at him with careless speed, and he nearly gets lost in its beige expanse from the way that his arms shake as he pulls it over his head.

“My quarters,” Your voice is thick and ragged, still recovering from your prior lack of oxygen, “We can- it’s soundproof, no one will know.”

“Yes,” He breathes, legs shaking slightly as he gathers the rest of the clothes he’d shed while sparring with you, “Um- we can... Anakin still hasn’t gotten the air conditioning running.”

“Uh-uh,” You shake your head, feeling nothing from the vent to your left, “Hurry, let’s go before-”

“General,” The door slides open, and you both startle, much less in tune with the force presences of those around you than you’d like to admit. One of your troopers sticks his head through the door, “The kid needs a multitool.”

You blink once, registering a slight soreness at the back of your throat, “Get him a multitool, then.”

You’re sure he can see your haggard appearance, and all apart from the glossy look of your lips looks like you’ve been sparring. Which you have, technically. You just hope Obi-Wan’s trousers don’t look like they’ve only just been hitched up around his waist again, or his shirt barely pulled down over his chest.

“I lost mine, general,” The trooper admits sheepishly. There was an abundance of the supplies that were offered to you before you’d been shipped out to this battle station, and more had been stocked for a long time in one of the supply closets, but your troopers are bored more often than not, and you shudder to think of all of the times they’ve used them as target practice by standing them on the balcony and opening fire. Apparently, you need to request some more from the next inspection team, as well as impress upon your troops the difference between an abundance of resources and useless clutter begging for a blaster wound.

“I have one in my quarters,” You sigh wearily, “Let’s see to it that we don’t misuse our equipment anymore, soldier.”

“Yes, General,” He nods vigorously, stepping out of your way to offer you the open door.

“Obi-Wan,” You turn apologetically, “We’ll have to continue our sparring match after I retrieve the multitool for your padawan. You’re welcome to follow us, though I’m not sure it’s any cooler out there than it is in here.”

“I’d like to stash my clothes somewhere, if you don’t mind,” Obi-Wan holds up the outer garments he’d shed, “I think it gives you somewhat of an unfair advantage if I’m liable to trip over my own tunics.”

You grant him a good-natured laugh as you pass your trooper in the doorway, and all in all, you think that the two of you have done a fantastic job at pretending his dick wasn’t in your mouth only minutes ago.

Your trooper makes the wise decision to stand outside of your quarters when you enter them, although any initial disappointment you’d felt at his poorly-timed request has well worn off by now. That’s all he’s guilty of, anyways; you find their antics amusing despite their destructive nature. It’s not his fault that you’re canoodling with the Jedi master, so you forgive him his abhorrent timing. You beeline for a locker in your closet, punching in the numeric code and letting the squeaky hinges reveal your small weapons store. It’s a multipurpose space, blasters on a rack that’s affixed to the back, a mount for your saber, and a drawer of various other mechanical supplies down below. You throw it open, and Obi-Wan watches you dig for the multitool where he stands by your bed, his tunics laid on your bedspread.

You realize all too late that one of your other mechanical supplies is in full view of the Jedi master standing behind you, black in color for subtlety but unmistakable in shape. It’s phallic and has a second prong that shoots off of the base to vibrate against your clit, something you only use when you're absolutely certain no one can hear. Besides, the sound could very well be mistaken for one of your troopers shaving their scruff, so you have ample opportunity. You snatch the multitool out of the drawer and slam it shut, making your trooper’s shoulders twitch in a quickly concealed wince. You’re thankful that only Obi-Wan was a temporary witness to your lack of organizational skills.

“Here,” You rush to hand it off, forcefully locking the cabinet and thrusting the tool towards the trooper, “Take it- uh, keep it, I’ll put in a request for more supplies tonight.”

“Thanks, General,” He nods warily at you, and you pity the way he’s taken your context clues and misarranged them to view your behavior as standoffish and exasperated with him, “My apologies again.”

“No worries,” You try not to snap at him, unnerved by the abnormal lack of mental pressure from Obi-Wan behind you. He used to tease you abundantly in your youth, prying at your mental shields and slipping snide remarks through the cracks while you fought to keep a straight face, but now that he’s laid his eyes on possibly the most embarrassing item you own, he’s completely still, completely silent.

“Goodbye.” You shut the door with a hydraulic hiss, and stand facing it until Obi-Wan speaks, pretending to fuss with the control panel.

“It seems you overlooked another multitool in that drawer,” His voice finally reaches over the silence, carefully bundled so that the underlying mirth is something you can only guess at, “Now I wonder if your battalion is really the cause of your foul mouth.”

“Shut up!” You whirl on him with cheeks blazing on opposite sides of your face like Tatooine’s twin suns, “Don’t tease me-”

“I’m not teasing you!” He insists, voice sounding aghast, like it’s out of the question, like he’s offended by the accusation, taking your arms into his grip when you look like you might shove him. His face is split into a smile - not a grin, which is reassuring - but a warm smile, even if there is amusement twinkling in his eyes.

“Yes you are,” You scoff, and you have half a mind to pull away when one of his hands releases your arm and anchors itself against your face instead. It’s warm, rough from wear but impossibly gentle. You fight leaning into it for as long as you can, pride still bruised, but he leans in to press his lips against your forehead in a chaste kiss. 

Typical.

You’d gagged on his dick ten minutes ago, and he’s kissing your forehead.

“Darling,” He hums sympathetically, tucking your face against his chest so snugly that you think it was engineered for the curves and bumps of your skin. You relish the hug he traps you in, the tender hold even though you’re interested in something more carnal, feral, hungry. His voice is strong and soothing as he speaks, and the vibrations thrum through his chest and against your face “You had my cock in your mouth not ten minutes ago. I’m not going to make fun of you for having a toy.”

Oh. Perhaps he hadn’t forgotten.

“Such a foul mouth,” You admonish him, tucking your grin away between the haphazardly-righted folds of his tabard. 

He pinches at your side, fingers greedily prying at the soft flesh of your belly through layers of clothing you wish weren’t between your skin and his, “Yes, well, it’s because I’ve had yours all over me.”

His hand, similarly bold to his mouth, flattens out along the curve of your side, tucking into the space above your hip bones. The other stays in place against your cheek, finger running idly across the underside of your jawline. You don’t know whether the shiver that shudders down your spine is due to the ticklish nature of his touch, or the sensual area he’s chosen, but he feels your spine thrum, and he presses further into you like it was an invitation.

“Darling,” He starts, back to that well-practiced hesitancy, “If you still want to…”

“I do,” You nod, feeling sweat drip down the back of your neck and soak into the fabric of your tank top, “Do you think we have time?”

“Anakin can occupy himself with scrap metal and multitools for hours,” Obi-Wan recollects with a smile on his face that isn’t committed to fondness or resignation. You’re sure he’s proud of his padawan’s abilities, but not of the havoc he wreaks with them.

“Hmm, that might be cutting it close,” You pretend to debate it, gnawing at the inside of your cheek, and he lets out a laugh as warm as the runoff heat from his saber with none of the bite of its blade.

“You’d occupy yourself with me for hours?” He teases, but when you nod, it’s earnest.

“I’d occupy myself with you for the rest of my life, Obi-Wan.”

The breath that he draws in when you begin speaking is the last one he draws for a while. Instead he holds it there, letting it burn and sear at his lungs while he wonders if any words he could produce with it would contain even a fraction of the yearning he feels roll over him in a nauseating wave. Very little has ever made him want the life of a civilian - his home is between the opulent walls of the Jedi temple, but any walls he shared with you would be infinitely more grandiose if only for your place within them.

“Had you said the word,” He elects to speak the truth, even if it isn’t even a chip away at the trove of feelings he keeps locked tightly away in his mind for you, “I would have left the Jedi Order.”

Would have.

You know why he won’t now, and you’re not upset with him for the reasons. You understand them, even if you don’t relate to them.

“But Anakin…”

“I know,” You nod against his chest, fingers taking hold of his undershirt’s fabric edge and fastening there, “You made a promise to your master. And to him. And he needs your help. I wouldn’t ask you to leave.”

“Would you have? When we were younger,” He idly strokes down the length of your spine, arm wrapping comfortably around your waist.

“Maybe…” You admit, “Maybe if I’d known your trip to Naboo would bring about such change. Maybe if I’d known I only had a few years left with you as we were. But I didn’t. So I never asked. And I never will.”

He doesn’t react verbally or physically after your confession, but the silence that ensues isn’t an awkward one. Instead, he maintains his hold on you, and you feel a gentle wave of affection flow from him through the Force. Affection, appreciation, love, which you feel so broadly through the Force, but rarely so devoted to you yourself rather than the galaxy in its entirety. You’re no stranger to the feeling, but it’s different channeled privately between two people than it is as a way of life.

“Let us pretend,” Obi-Wan finally musters, his voice thicker than usual, though if you were not so in tune with him you wouldn’t have perceived it, “For the next few fleeting moments, that we are still young. That we don’t have responsibilities other than those to ourselves, and to each other.”

Though your youth may have escaped you, your mind weary with resignation and Obi-Wan’s eyes darkened with the perpetual exhaustion of adulthood, his touch does not feel tired or incapable. It feels strong, firm, and mindful where it slips from your chin to your waist. His other hand sandwiches you between them, and you’re tilting your chin up to kiss him before he gives any indication that he’ll do the same. But he does, his boldness almost reset from the interruption you’d suffered. Like you need to coax him out of his shell again, like he’s worried you’ve somehow changed your mind.

You take the back of his neck in your hand, finding it slick and tacky with sour-smelling sweat, and pull him down so that his lips smash messily to your own. It’s a move he’s not expecting, and a startled groan escapes his lips as proof. You drink it, sucking it down your throat and pulling him towards the bed with the same backwards momentum. He’s nimble even if he’s unprepared, probably to do with his extensive agility training. You’re more than ready to fall back onto your bed when your calves butt against the frame but he lowers you down gently, with ease, drawing back from your kiss despite your fervent protests to watch you look up at him.

“Obi-Wan,” You beg, your voice weary, “Why are you hesitating?”

“I’m not hesitating,” He answers, and you feel it to be truthful, “I’m admiring you, darling. I’m not unsure, I’m more sure than I’ve ever been in my life.”

“Prove it,” You plead, already pulling at the hem of your tank top. You peel its sweat-soaked binding off of your skin, showcasing the equally stained garment beneath it that keeps your chest closer to your neck than your stomach, “Please, Obi-Wan, take me like you want me. Not like you feel bad for having me.”

“I do not feel bad for having you,” He promises, mouth barely parting from yours to utter the words. His lips are pink-tinted, glistening with spit, probably a mixture of his and yours. He pants slightly, cheeks similarly ruddy, “Perhaps later I will. When I stand in front of the Council and tell them we conducted routine maintenance. When I lie, when I guard my memories of you from them. But I’m not occupied with that now, darling. Only with you, I swear it.”

“Oh, well, that’s good to know,” You hum, kissing an inch lower than his mouth, the apex of his chin that’s marred by the scruff of his beard. It’s prickly and rough beneath your lips, and when you draw back they glisten with transferred sweat, “I’m glad you’re not thinking of Master Yoda while dipping a knee between my thighs.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan ducks his head, advances on pause as he plants his forehead against your shoulder, “That’s awful. Really, truly vile.”

You laugh, and despite his disgusted bravado, so does he. His chest shakes against yours and you relish the sound, hand still planted firmly on the back of his neck. You briefly consider breaking out your rusty Yoda impression, ‘kiss me, you must’, but decide against it, instead choosing to press his head closer to your torso, letting his forehead lay flush and sweaty against your shoulder. It puts the scruff of his beard on the curve of your tits, and you feel it burn your skin as he kisses along it lightly. 

His mouth is soft, and his beard is its abrasive opposite. They trail in tandem along the slope of your breasts, first the soft lips and then the burn of the beard, until he’s lit a fiery trail across your skin to the padded edge of your bra. When his lips meet fabric instead of skin he noses beneath it, surely smelling a morning’s worth of sweat accumulated beneath the weight of your chest. You’re self conscious, for only a flash, then he takes a deep drag of air, inhaling until his chest seems fit to burst.

“I’m sorry,” You find yourself humming, regardless of his clear interest, “I wish a shower would help. Even the cold water doesn’t prevent sweating.”

“I don’t want you to shower,” He muses, pushing his face between your breasts to kiss at the skin between them. He mouths gently, tongue sliding over your skin with little form and too much spit that blends well with your sweat, “Sex is not sterile, darling. Soap and water defeat the purpose.”

You’re not sure whether it’s his insistence on the natural state of your body or the way that his knee gently prods against your center, but whatever it is, your fingers itch and you fling them up to cup the underside of your chest.

“Take it off,” You beg, and Obi-Wan shows no hesitation in complying, his hands sliding beneath your back, rough and weathered from work. They’re gentle as they slide over the clasp of your bra, and you push yourself up onto your elbows on the mattress so that he can maneuver the stretchy fabric easier.

“Does it hook or button?” He nudges his nose against yours to ask, and your stomach flops at the question. Both the fact that he doesn’t have enough experience to know, and the way that he feels comfortable enough admitting that to you by asking so earnestly only make you want him more, and you’re barely able to mumble ‘clasp’ before pressing your lips to his own once more.

“Three,” You add later, against his lips, when he unhooks one and still doesn’t have the garment undone, “There’s three.”

He takes your orders with unfailing patience, a trait you’d admired even in your youth. While you’d been more prone to hotheaded outbursts, he’d take you by the arm and speak for the both of you, usually resulting in far less severe of a punishment than you’d have gotten if you’d spoken your mind. Then the two of you would share sneaky, fleeting glances at each other while scrubbing the floors of the refectory, trying not to laugh loud enough for the Knight unwillingly supervising your punishment to hear.

You’re pulled out of your reverie when he finally unhooks the garment and slips it off of your shoulders, meaning you have to draw back from where you’d tucked your face over his shoulder, giving him a view of his work. As your faces pass each other he offers you the same grin he’d worn all those years ago, his pretty eyes alight with the love you feel seeping from his fingertips. You see a glimpse of the boy he was through the man he’s become, and both are equally endearing to you. The first, because you’d grown with him, like ferns tangled together in sticky, clinging tendrils. The second, because he wears his accomplishments on his face, crows feet at the corners of his eyes from laughing at his padawan’s wayward antics, and frown lines for scowling at the same incidences only moments prior. He’d laughed at you in your youth, and frowned just the same at your more uncouth ideas for adventure, and now those expressions are etched into his face, like layers of makeup no longer dissolvable with remover. He’ll wear them forever, and you want to see him display them even in his old age.

He watches the way that your body moves when he peels the sweat-soaked garment away from your chest. He watches your breasts succumb to gravity’s harsh pull, sloping sideways and downwards rather than maintaining their tight compress towards your chin. He watches them sag, watches them fall to their natural state and declares, “You’re beautiful, darling.”

He takes them in his hands, their mass in his palms as he rolls his thumb over the skin of your nipples. They’d usually pebble in the cold but now they’re pulling taut beneath his touch, and when he brushes his thumb over their peak you stifle a gasp.

“Beautiful,” He repeats, and leans down to meet one with his mouth. He gravitates towards the right one first, and the embrace of his hot mouth against your skin tempts your back to arch. His tongue presses flat against your nipple, then drags up its surface, and his lips kiss over the stripe of saliva he’d left behind.

His beard rubs against your skin and it’s not rawing, not yet, but you know it will be the more he mouths at your breast. He’s licking, sucking, pulling, but never biting, teeth merely grazing your flesh rather than indulging in it. His tongue does that instead, flattening out over your raised flesh and dragging hot, wet stripes over the bud of your perked nipple.

“Obi- Obi-Wan,” You gasp, dragging desperate, heaving breaths into your lungs as your hands fly to his lengthened hair. You’d ruffled it many times when it was short and spiked, but now you’re able to get purchase in the strawberry-blonde locks, curling your fingers around the soft, sweat-darkened strands and pulling. 

You don’t pull hard, but it’s unexpected, and you feel the momentary pinch of Obi-Wan’s teeth around your breast. It floods heat to your already-pulsing core more than you’d have thought possible, considering the sweltering temperatures you’ve been in the whole time, but the soft groan that then ripples through your skin from the depths of his throat only makes you more desperate. All of a sudden the long-suffering heat is tepid by comparison, and you yank at the material of his undershirt so hard you nearly rip the fabric.

“Off,” You pant, “Please, take it- get it off, Obi-Wan.”

In a fluid, crouched movement Obi-Wan tears his undershirt off with one hand at its hem, his muscles flexing as he swings the arm up and over his head. He discards the shirt carelessly beneath him and it droops to the floor, no longer covering the bare skin of his chest that you’d admired earlier.

You have half a mind to do to him what he’s been doing to you, to sink your teeth into the flesh of his chest and suckle on his sweat-soaked skin. But he dips his face back to mouth at your tit once more, so you settle for running your hands greedily, desperately over the layer of soft skin that blocks his muscled chest from view. When he was younger, what seems like an eternity but must only be five years, his build was more defined. You’d gotten plenty of eyefuls of his bare, heaving chest during a particularly intense sparring match, or down by one of the large pools that were definitely supposed to be used more for reflection and tranquility rather than the chaos you’d wreaked upon them. But years of planning someone else’s schedule before his own has meant that he’s softened out around the middle, muscles still prominent when you dig your fingers into his skin, just not starkly visible anymore.

Age does that to a person; pushes them harder than ever before to achieve a less-defined result than they’re used to, but you find that you want to grind down onto the thin layer of pudge he’s accumulated just as much as you’d have wanted to drag yourself over his defined abs. The thought of doing both, either, anything makes you dizzy with desire that you express by scratching your sharpened nails down his skin, feeling his muscles shudder beneath your fingers.

“Darling,” He groans, choking on the word like it’s gagged him, “I- I think we ought to- are you ready?”

You marvel at his sincerity, at the idea that he’s not aware of the throbbing, slick mess that your core has become. You’d been ready twenty minutes ago, sprawled out on the floor beneath him, and you’ve only gotten more eager since then. His concern makes you want him more, and you use your grip on his soft hair to tug him upwards to meet your lips in a kiss. 

“I’m ready,” You breathe, laying the words out in a hazy moan over his tongue, “I’m ready, Obi-Wan, please- please take me.”

A groan melts from his mouth like molten butter, dripping over your tongue and down your throat. He pants, lets you suck his tongue into your mouth in a long, eager drag, then mumbles clumsily, “I want you. I want- I want to have you, darling, I want to take you.” His hips roll experimentally against your own, the tight pressure of his clothed cock digging into your panties as he nearly loses the function in the muscles that are holding him up above you.

He lets out another moan as you drag your hips up to meet his premature thrusts, and this time it’s a weaker sound, more strangled and mottled. It’s satisfying, knowing that you’ve reduced the ever-stoic, prized Jedi negotiator Obi-Wan Kenobi to a heaving mass of sweat and desire. His undershorts are rucked up around his meaty thighs, but he hasn’t yanked them off to free his stiff cock yet, so for a moment, all you do is grind against each other. 

The layers of clothing between you, one covering you and two covering him, provide frustrating boundaries but much-needed friction, and the scrape of his rough undershorts dragging against your thin panties makes your fingers curl into his back once more. You suspect that when he wakes tomorrow, your marks will still be there, and you take pride in knowing that he’ll have a very hard time forgetting you.

“Obi-” You really do intend to say his full name, but your breath leaves your lungs too quickly for it, and you revert back to the nickname he’d loathed as a teenager. Too juvenile, he’d protested greatly at the clipped diminutive, but he leans into it now. He licks the word right off of your tongue, his own plunging past your lips and dragging over your teeth in a messy, imprecise fashion. You get the sense that this is not about sex to him, it’s not about mechanics or equations or the perfect formula. It’s about you, and him, and you and him together. He doesn’t kiss you like a storybook prince because he kisses you like Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan wants to lick the spit out of your mouth and suck on your tongue. Obi-Wan wants to feel, not think, for once in his life, so he does.

“Obi-” You falter again, hands traveling from his muscled back to his hips. Your fingers dip beneath the waistband of his undershorts, then his briefs where they lay against the same stretch of skin, “Off. Off, please- Obi-Wan, off, take ‘em- off.”

He grunts his approval into your mouth, obscene squelching sounds coming from where his spit pools between your teeth and your tongue. He reaches down with a blind, clumsy hand to tug at his waistband, but when it doesn’t provide immediate results, he finds himself getting frustrated. It’s an unfamiliar feeling, not the frustration itself but his inability to control it, and he feels his brow crease in irritation as he reluctantly parts from your mouth to focus on the task at hand. All he needs is a little extra leverage to slide his shorts off of his waist, briefs bunched together, and as soon as they’re out of his way he’s reaching for your own underwear.

You crane your neck downwards to watch him, and the glimmering mess of saliva in your mouth practically doubles in volume at the sight of his red-tipped, rock-hard cock. It’s curved slightly up towards his stomach in its desperation, and there’s precum oozing from its tip, foaming and all too appealing. You want to suck him off again, to really choke yourself on it this time and never draw back for air, but there’s no time when he tugs swiftly at the elastic band of your panties, tearing them easily away from you. They drag beneath your thighs but he merely pulls harder, until they spring free and bunch up around your knees.

“Up,” Obi-Wan taps at your left thigh, and you struggle to bend your knees amidst their relentless trembling. He helps you, strength having stuck with him even when composure has abandoned its post. You get your left thigh up first, exposing your glistening cunt, smeared sticky with your own slick. His breath catches, you feel it stutter to a stop in his chest that you’re groping, and his eyes glimmer in the warm lights above you.

“Darling,” He breathes, taken by the mess of your drooling cunt. He reaches out, touches it carefully, with only the pad of his pointer finger. He ghosts it along the side of your slit, and even the infuriatingly chaste touch is ultra erotic. At the way you writhe beneath a single one of his fingers he brings his thumb up to stroke down your slit, catching wetness on his thumb that his mouth opens to accommodate.

He sucks your release clean off of his thumb, you’re almost certain he scrapes his teeth along his skin just to get it all. 

He leans into his own thumb, chases after it like he’s not the one taking it out of his mouth. He hesitates no further in clamoring backwards on the mattress until his knees hit the floor below, and he thanks the Force that the beds you were given are low enough for him to lean over the edge and bury his face in your cunt.

“Obi-Wan, no!” You plead, fingers tangling in his pretty blonde hair, “You’ll- you said- don’t cum yet, please, I- I want it in me!”

“I will cum in you,” He pledges, voice deep and determined as he nudges his nose against your wet cunt, “My darling, I’ll do whatever you ask. But I need you here, now. Please,” He breathes, his exhale shaky and warm as it heats your cunt, “Please, Darling, I want you here.”

“Have me,” You whimper, squirming your hips from side to side to propel yourself down the mattress. Your cunt bumps messily against his face that he doesn’t bother moving, and you buck your hips once, twice against his nose, riding his face, “Please, have me, Obi-Wan, you can have me.”

Your consent is all it takes. His mouth is open and his tongue is out the second you say the word, licking wet, tantalizingly slow stripes up your slit. He doesn’t breach it, doesn’t delve his tongue into your entrance, he laps at the slick smeared on the outside, as well as the wetness that has thoroughly soaked your thighs. Your skin is tacky with it even when he’s replaced it with his spit, and your cunt throbs at the meticulous approach he’s taken to appreciating every drop you give him. 

It’s too meticulous. 

After another slow, careful, nearly chaste lave of his tongue over the crease between your thigh and your cunt, probably just as soaked with sweat as it is with slick, you retighten your now-loose grip in his hair. You’d let go of the strands when he’d given you what you wanted, but now you want more, and you lead him straight to your core where he’d been lapping at your thighs instead.

“Here,” You beg, pulling his face against your drooling cunt until you’re certain he’s unable to breathe. You feel his nose breach your slit, nudged into your cunt by your insistent tugging on his hair.

“I need you here, inside, please.” You beg, pussy aching with abandon. His slow, careful ministrations had driven you mad, and now you are teetering on the edge of insanity as you nearly howl, “Please!”

His response is white-hot and wet. His tongue prods gently from between his lips as his jaw widens, and he watches your reaction as he fills your cunt with his slick tongue. A gush of your own wetness greets him, and as insistent as he is at meeting your eyes, his own flutter shut at the taste.

“Force,” He breathes, and the exclamation is uncommon from him. The muffled, garbled word sends vibrations straight into your cunt, and after the initial shock of his tongue inside of you, you feel his beard.

It scrapes abrasively against the sensitive, licked-over skin of your inner thighs, and prickles deliciously at the base of your leaking cunt. You feel sharp hairs prod at the curve of your ass, and his mouth moves fluidly, tongue wriggling with surprising prowess through the mess of slick you’ve accumulated in your cunt. It slides wetly along your inner walls that have made way for his tongue, and that will stretch eagerly to accommodate his cock. 

His cock, oh, you’d forgotten the thick weight on your tongue, and your jaw aches with the ghost of it. Your cunt aches, too, and when his nose softly bumps your clit you gasp as your hips jolt upwards. He catches your thighs with Jedi agility, his muscles not straining at all to hold you to the mattress. The casual, easy display of strength makes your thighs quiver, and something inside of you tighten like a knot.

He licks you out like he’s drinking ambrosia, the glistening substance smeared over his face and starting up the bridge of his nose. The noises that he makes are hungry and wild as he licks more, sucks more, takes more. He’d moderated himself at first, lapped the sticky spillings of your wet cunt like he was rationing a meal. Now he feasts, tongue losing focus from inside your pussy and rapidly licking over your clit. His lips suction on and his beard burns tantalizingly at your sloppy cunt. You feel stimulation everywhere, the knot below your belly tightening ever-stronger until you feel the beginnings of a fray. It’s a step you take, an incline that you scramble up, and each pedestal you achieve gives way to a higher one. You let yourself climb, climb, climb, against every pulse of his suctioned lips around your sensitive bundle of nerves, and you breach the clouds as Obi-Wan broadens his sucking mouth to half-latch to your clit, his tongue delving back into your drooling cunt. You leap for the final pedestal and a surge of pleasure hits you, soaking wet like a wave that you ride back down to the surface. 

You tremble, you whimper, you love. Your thighs shake, the muscles in your stomach stuttering as your hips jolt and jerk. Your mouth produces such feeble sounds, whines and moans and ‘Oh, please, yes’s, and ‘Obi-Wan- kriff!’s. Your fingers in his hair latch tight but cling gentle, holding him to you as you lose control of yourself in the Force. All of the love, all of the passion, all of the attachment, all of the terrible-horrible-no-good-very-bad-un-Jedi-like things that you’re not supposed to feel surge through the Force and hit Obi-Wan like Coruscant’s train, knocking the wind out of him, though he never stops sucking at you.

Obi-Wan licks you through your orgasm, tongue pressing tight and hot and wet to the quiver of your cunt, letting it spasm against his mouth. He sucks up every last drop of slick that you’ll give him, greedily mouthing at your cunt long after it’s begun stinging from oversensitivity. You want his mouth off, and his cock in, although that first part sounds like a heinous thing to wish for. His tongue is perfection, slippery and knowing you well enough to hit just the right spots even though it’s never had you before. You only push his mouth away to beg for his cock, but you’re tempted to let him white out your vision and lick at you until he passes out.

“Obi-!” You gasp, pushing instead of pulling at his golden hair, “Obi-Wan, no- no more! Here, up- here, please, and I want you inside of me.”

He lets you unlatch him from your pulsing cunt, rife with the sting of stimulation. You need only a matter of seconds to come down from your high, but they’re seconds you can’t afford to spend on Obi-Wan’s tongue, or the clock won’t ever start. He licks at a smear of slick over your thigh that he’d missed earlier, and his brain seems to register your begging.

“Alright, darling,” He pants, out of breath from the way he’d spent it all in your cunt. His voice is ragged, drowned in slick and thick with want.

He clamors back onto the mattress, all humbly-forged muscles and greed. He hovers over you, and dips down to claim your mouth the way he had your cunt: with broad, sweeping swipes of his tongue. He licks your slick across your tongue, letting you taste yourself on him.

“I’m here,” He soothes, his voice a notch deeper than usual and his words malformed due to the open ring of his mouth. He licks against your tongue once more, sloppy and hot, as his hips grind down against your thigh. He knows you need time but he doesn’t have long, and he grinds against your hip until you’re ready. You feel his stiff cock digging into your flesh, and it sends pulses of energy to your recovering cunt that make it beg to be filled. He’s not composed the way that he normally is, but he’s managing to hold himself together through grunts and groans into your mouth. If you don’t act fast, he’s going to splatter your stomach with cum, which wouldn’t be distasteful by any means, but you’d rather him paint your insides with it.

“You are intoxicating,” Obi-Wan proclaims, speaking directly into your mouth, an addict that can’t wean off of his drug, “I don’t know how I am supposed to pretend like this never happened.”

“Don’t,” You beg breathlessly, “Don’t forget me. Keep quiet around others, and- and when you are alone,” You reach down to take his cock into your hands, heavy and thick and waiting, “When you lay in bed at night, when you touch yourself-” He lets out something teetering on the edge of a whimper as you stroke your hand along his flushed length, an angry red coloring the tip that exposes how much self-control he’s composing, “-touch yourself, and- and think of me. Think of my hands, of my mouth, of my cunt. Think of me, Obi-Wan.”

“I will,” He vows, his voice holding like a frayed rope with one thread remaining, strained and pulling and clinging together, “Please let me have you. Please,” He braces his forehead against yours, his cock throbbing in your palm, “Please darling, let me in. I want to be inside of you, I want to have you, please.”

You’ve never seen him babble before. Not when he’d been seven years old, bright-eyed and rosy-cheeked, caught with a stray tooka cat in his robes halfway back to the creche. Not when he’d been fifteen and a warrior, his side split open in a gory mess of blood and flesh and lymph and bone. Not at his old master’s funeral, the light from the pyre’s flames dancing upon his stoic features. Obi-Wan Kenobi is a master at composure, but he is breathless now, sacrificing it to the dewy-warm crease where your neck meets your shoulder, and sucking up your sweat-salty scent in return.

You place your free hand on his back, sticky and flushed beneath your touch, and use it to help guide him into you. Your other hand, still wrapped around his cock, lines it up with your entrance and he needs little coaxing from there. He pushes himself into you slowly, courteously, but loses himself to some deep, primal urge that he’s buried beneath layers of meditation and balance. 

He comes undone.

His muscles surge and his hips buck in what begins as a steady pace, but transforms into a wild rhythm that pins you against the mattress. He lets out a groan into the sweaty juncture of your neck, something that sounds like it could be from a beast and not a man. You feel the scrape of his beard against the seldom-touched skin there and you’re sure it’s growing raw, but you couldn’t care less. He’s not holding your hips up - his hands are plastered to your side and holding you there with a force carefully and pointedly short of bruising - but you angle your pelvis up anyway, allowing him to hit that much deeper inside of you. The tip of his cock never hurts where it connects briefly each thrust with your cervix, but you feel it intimately, every vein and ridge and curve that his body has to offer. 

You’re grateful for the sound-proof walls of the military compound because you realize after a moment that you’re making noise just the same as he is. It’s softer, quieter, but it’s there, the underlying harmony to his leading grunts and groans. 

All the while he is soft and gentle, because what he wants is not sex, it is you. Perhaps if he were a lesser man, he’d squeeze you, or bend you, or break you, all to take you the way he wants. But it is the soul inside of you that he’s after, and he takes great care with the vessel it’s enclosed in. He holds you, but he does not squeeze you. He kisses you, but he does not bite you. He moves with you, not against you. Your hips surge upwards to meet the thrusts of his cock and he latches his mouth to yours desperately, pleadingly. Your breathing is short and staccato through your nose, fanning against his top lip as he mashes it messily to your own, and you’re much easier to bring to a climax the second time around, sensitivity still roiling in your blood from your previous orgasm.

“Obi-Wan,” You beg, the words spilling languidly into his mouth, as you move in tandem, in, out, in, out, forwards, backwards, everything, nothing.

“Obi- I’m gonna- ooh, I’m gonna cum,” You cry, overwhelmed by the consistent drag of his cock against the walls of your soaked cunt. You’re slick again, gushing enough to replenish however much Obi-Wan had licked out of you. It squelches as he drives his dick into your pussy, foamy from the repetitive motions that are only creating it at faster intervals.

“Please- please do,” He moans, his dick twitching inside of you, “Force, I- ah, there’s nothing I want more than to feel that, darling. Please- please cum, please-”

“Kiss me,” You plead, even though he’s never stopped, if the way that his mouth moves against yours can still be considered a kiss. It’s far from any conventional peck on the lips, mostly tongue and drool that seeps down the side of your mouth and into your neck, mixing with the sweat already lingering there from your workout.

He tries kissing you more neatly, his lips tightening and suctioning around your own, but the closer you both get to your impending orgasms, the sloppier his thrusts are, and the more slack his mouth goes, smothering your own instead of truly kissing it while his tongue continues its dogged pursuit of your own. It’s no matter; his spit leaks uncontrollably into your mouth and you relish the taste. You don’t need perfection, you need him.

You can’t help your wandering hand from snaking down to his waist, curving just below his cock to cradle his balls against your palm. They’re heavy and warm as you take them into your hand, and doing so elicits a gasp from the man chasing his release inside of you, his hips stuttering in their pursuit of the wet warmth of your cunt. You squeeze them, not harshly, just a gentle compression, and Obi-Wan melts. A whimper escapes his lips, still slack and pressed to your own, and though his thrusts momentarily slow, they resume at double the pace. He’s rapidly bucking his hips now, barely containing himself enough to lift one hand off of your side and bring it to your chest. He fits his palm over one of your breasts, your stiff, sensitive nipple caving against his palm. You gasp at the prickling sensation and your fingernails momentarily dig into his back, but when his dick twitches once more inside of you, desperate, fit-to-burst, you drag them down his back in searing red lines.

If you hadn’t been able to feel Obi-Wan cum inside of you, you’d have known it was happening from the cry he releases alone. It’s abrupt, like his orgasm catches him off-guard even though he’s been pursuing it. But you can feel it, you can feel his warm cum ooze out of the head of his cock, momentarily stationary as it’s snug against your cervix. You feel it gush from his dick, filling any and all available space in your pulsating cunt before flooding outwards, dripping down your ass and thighs in an obscene display that soaks right into your bedsheets. Obi-Wan rides out his climax at a pace rapid enough to coax your second one out of you, and you welcome the now-familiar sensation of cumming around Obi-Wan. It’s mind-numbing, your ears ring for a faint moment, and your cunt rapidly clenches and unclenches around his cock that’s all too happy to continue occupying the space.

He grunts, moans, and groans as his sloppy thrusts finally slow, and your cunt appreciates the reduced pace. You’re well and truly spent, difficult to achieve for someone who’d gone through endurance training since childhood, and you’re not surprised that Obi-Wan, too, needs a break. He lowers himself to your chest with a slow, shaky exhale, eyes closed and face glistening with sweat just as your own does. 

His beard grates roughly against your skin, shifted with every ragged breath that he draws in. His hair spills over the breast that his mouth isn’t nestled beside, and you stare down at his face, marveling how beautiful his barely-fluttering lashes and heaving chest are.

Before he opens his eyes he angles it towards you, so that the first thing he sees is your flushed, sweaty, open-mouthed expression. He’s in the perfect position to kiss the side of your breast, and it tingles with the phantom sensation of his palm flat against your perked nipple barely minutes before. His beard scrapes your skin like it has since you first kissed him, and you wonder if you’ll ever be able to live happily without the scratch of it against your cheeks, or thighs, for that matter. The skin between your legs is still raw, stinging with the friction of Obi-Wan’s coarse hair against your flesh..

“You look beautiful, darling,” He hums, his voice grated raw from fatigue. His breath fans hot over your chest, but he pushes himself up on his tired biceps to hover over you. His weight against you had been comforting, but his gaze is even more so, and you let him loom over you.

His chest, peppered with auburn curls so fine they glisten in the poor lighting of your quarters, rises and falls deeply in front of you. You have half a mind to bury your face in it; you might if his face wasn’t impossibly more captivating.

His eyes search yours, for what you’re not sure, but you realize that his breathing gets more shallow until his chest stills completely. He only releases his breath when you reach up to thumb gently at his sternum, loosening his lungs again.

“Do you regret it?”

You suppose you didn’t have to ruin the moment so harshly, but you want to know the truth. You want to know if this was worth it, or if you’re going on the list of regrets that Obi-Wan pours over obsessively.

He takes a moment to answer, but you suspect it’s because he’s been caught off guard by your question. He shakes his head, dipping his face down to kiss the swell of your cheek.

“No, I don’t.” He mumbles against the dewy skin of your face, hiding his words there in self-preservation. You kiss the fleeting scruff of his beard as he pulls away, and your eyes find the blue of his instantly.

“You needed convincing at first,” You recall warily, something sinking in your chest now that you’re not puppettered by lust, “Are you certain it was the right thing to do?”

“Not at all,” He admits, “In fact, I think it was wrong of me. But I’ve done it anyways, and I am happy for that.”

“Why wrong?” You ghost your knuckles against his cheek, and he leans into it like he used to do when you’d clean scrapes and cuts he’d acquire while sparring. 

“I am more attached to you now than ever,” He offers simply, but it doesn’t seem like it pains him to confess. He seems lighter now, less embroiled in his own anxiety.  “And I’m not certain I can keep my personal feelings- well, personal. I don’t know that I could think rationally about you. That’s not desirable to the Order, or to the war effort.”

You bite your tongue, teeth digging softly into its muscle.

“All the same,” He continues, “Jedi are not without attachments. Younglings form friendships in the creche, and their minders love them. Padawans love their Masters, and vice versa. Masters engage in relations,” He acknowledges, then his brows tick up and he considers, “Ki Adi Mundi has four wives. Perhaps I’m not the most blasphemous Jedi they’ve ever seen.”

A laugh comes tumbling from your lips before you can stop it, and Obi-Wan’s face softens into a grin of his own.

“Five,” You correct him, “He has five wives.”

“Force, he’s a heretic,” Obi-Wan exclaims, but it’s all for show; he holds no ill opinions of the council member.

“I’m happy for his wives,” You hum, the sound just short of a giggle, “But I prefer your beard over his.”

“Oh, but he’s got a better mustache than me,” Obi-Wan settles on his side facing you, a smile etched permanently into his features as he plays along with the banter you’ve started. He relishes its lighthearted nature compared to the hesitance of moments prior, “Maybe I should grow it out and curl it like his.”

Before you can offer him another round in exchange for a promise to never shape his facial hair around Master Mundi’s, the walls of your compound give a creaky grinding sound, then a rumble, and air whooshes through the vents you’ve come to loathe for their uselessness in the recent past.

“He did it!” You gawk, sitting up excitedly, nearly forgetting that you’re topless, “Oh Force, Anakin’s a wizard! He really is, he’s a mechanical wizard, and I’m going to buy him a speeder for this.”

“Do not,” Obi-Wan groans, sitting up beside you and tugging you easily to fit your back against his chest, “The last thing that boy needs is the ability to go faster.”

“He did it,” You sigh happily, leaning back and pressing your lips to Obi-Wan’s. He reciprocates easily now, unlike before when he’d run himself ragged with doubts.

“That means we’ll be off soon,” Obi-Wan reminds you gently, and you deflate slightly in his hold, “But I don’t think comming each other should be any issue.”

“Every night?” You suggest, kissing at the prickly cleft of his chin.

“That’s- ambitious.” He chuckles, but it’s not meant to tease, “Every night, darling.”

“You can send me dirty videos,” You gush, scrambling to free yourself from Obi-Wan’s hold when he tries locking his fingers onto your sides, nipping sharply at your shoulder.

“I will not!” He insists, voice firm but chest trembling with barely-withheld laughter, “Force, if I pressed the wrong button…”

“Perhaps Master Mundi could share it with one of his wives,” You laugh, scrambling back into your underclothes and heading for the fresher to clean yourself up, “Hurry up and get dressed, Obi-Wan, one of my troopers is probably on their way to tell us the good news!”

Your suspicions are confirmed only moments later, thankfully, after you’ve both had time to right your appearances. You look flushed and sweaty, if anything, but the cool air hasn’t managed to flood the entire compound yet, and you’ve been exercising, so it’s excusable. No one but you two needs to know that exercising didn’t mean sparring for longer than ten minutes.

“Anakin, you’re fantastic,” You call, rushing through the empty hangar where he’s standing near the ramp of the ship, “You’ve saved us all. I’m fairly certain my troops would have resorted to fratricide if we’d had to melt here for any longer.”

The padawan gives you a valiant effort at a polite chuckle, and you press on, “For the record, I told your master I’d get you a speeder for helping us today, but he said no.”

“Y/N,” Obi-Wan starts, exasperated, but catches himself on the use of your first name. Perhaps it feels different now, coming out of his mouth much more measured than it had only twenty minutes prior. He doesn’t speak further.

Anakin’s eyes briefly glint at the fantasy of his own speeder, but he controls himself quickly. He’s a credit to his master, who manages to look convincingly like he hadn’t just broken a very long streak of celibacy. Still, you appreciate that war hasn’t managed to suck the most basic of excitements out of the child, and you reach up to pat his cheek in a gesture distinctly un-Jedi like. 

“Take care of yourself, and don’t let Obi-Wan bore you with a million lectures on economics, or politics, or the two combined.”

Anakin nods, but bites his lower lip to refrain from smirking, saving himself a lecture on sass later on. You hear Obi-Wan exhale huffily behind you, and you turn your attention to him when Anakin retreats onto the ship.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t add to my apprentice’s willfulness,” He grouses, but the corner of his mouth twitches upwards in fondness for you both, “He’s got enough of that on his own.”

“Take care of yourself,” You ignore his teasing, your voice tender and sweet, slightly more than it had been for Anakin, “I know they don’t send you out much, because he’s only fourteen, but- but please take care of yourself, Obi-Wan.”

Perhaps if Anakin hadn’t been lingering on the ramp of the ship, perhaps if there weren’t five clone troopers stationed in the hangar, perhaps if you were the only two people in the world, like it had felt less than an hour ago, Obi-Wan would have kissed you. But he doesn’t, all he does is nod, 

“We will,” He vows, and you nod, satisfied.

“I mean it,” You continue, more threatening than your earlier sentiment, “Comm me.” And you think back to the request you’d made earlier, breathlessly, the words fanning out against his sweaty skin, “And… think of me.”

You know he’s recalling the same moment in time when his cheeks tinge pink.

“I will,” He promises, singular this time, confirming your suspicions that his mind is flashing with visions of your flushed skin beneath his hands, “And please take care of yourself, too, General.”

Something hard and aching tugs at the back of your throat at the honorific, such a far cry from the intimacy you’d shared. But now you are General Y/L/N, and he is Master Kenobi, and that is the way things must be in the presence of others.

“Master Kenobi,” You bow, bending at the waist and noting the soft tug of soreness there.

“General Y/L/N,” Obi-Wan mimics your gesture, hands folded neatly into the sleeves of his robes.

He turns. He pivots on his feet and strides up the ramp of the ship they’d taken, Anakin waiting until he’s passed through the doorway to follow behind him. The door hisses shut, concealing them both, and the mechanical whiz-kid has the engines powered up in no time. You watch their ship take flight and navigate the narrow entrance to your hangar with ease, waiting until they’ve passed each temperature-isolating layer of defense that enshroud your compound and disappear into the planet’s heat-hazy atmosphere to turn away.

“General,” One of your troopers lingers behind you, “Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” You put on a convincing show, smiling serenely, “I’d just forgotten how much of a challenge sparring with Master Kenobi is. I’m fatigued; I think I’ll retire to my quarters for some rest.”

“General,” He nods, stating your title like a vow of loyalty, standing at attention as the hangar doors finally shut you in. 

You walk the familiar path to your sparse quarters absentmindedly, feeling that same twinge of achiness each time you take a step. Only once your door hisses shut do you release the prim tension in your shoulders, slumping and slouching like you’d just escaped the throes of battle. 

There is a shirt on your bed.

It’s white, though it’s been worn thoroughly, so the color is muddied ever so slightly with the tan tinge of sweat. It’s rumpled, from a hasty removal. It’s laid over your poor excuse for a blanket, cream-colored against the starkly contrasting black fabric. It’s impossible to miss, which means it had to have been placed there deliberately; it wasn’t forgotten.

It’s Obi-Wan’s.

You overcome your momentary stun and pad towards the bed, reaching for the shirt with a hesitant hand. You take it, feel it ever-so-slightly damp with lingering perspiration, and your stomach flips.

It’s Obi-Wan’s; it’s yours.

The shirt winds up snug around your pillow, tucked beneath the Republic-issue linen. It’s invisible to the outside eye, but when your nose is pressed gauchely into the pillowcase you can smell Obi-Wan through it, a mix of natural and artificial scents.

The musk of cologne and the acrid smell of sweat. Composure and lust. What is right and what is wrong.

You and Obi-Wan.

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

[justashana]

While going through droughts of hyperfixation, the idea of Star wars and MTMTE crossing over has rotted my brain.

Like imagine with me, the Lost Light malfunctioning while entering an atmosphere in Coruscant. The shenanigans that would ensue would be fantastic.

Maybe the Republic is apart of the whole Galactic alliance, and is incredibly confused as to why a bunch of Cybertronians are just in Coruscant. They’d probably have to stay in the Jedi Temple for an act of sanctuary because of the power of the Jedi counting as a religion.

Brainstorms reaction to a lightsaber, Perceptor’s reactions to the clones existence, Drift teaching the padawan or knights some sick new moves, Rung appalled at the lack of ANY therapy and the fact that they’re sending literal children into war as commanders.

Megatron having a moment™️ because wow this whole war with the Separatists and the Republic are giving Peepaw his war flashbacks, and wow that Palpatine does not give the best vibes.

[obiwan]

Hi! I just started watching the Star Wars prequels and I want to read some obikin fanfictions but I don't know where to start so if you have any recommendations for me I could really asappreciated.

Have a good day/night!

Hii! I keep saying I'm going to do this because I have so many messages like this - and what I usually try to do is leave the most "famous" ones out of reclists, because most likely everyone has read them, but they were also the first ones I've read. So I will try to do a combination of both new and old fics which I consider "classics". Also a reminder that I have already posted this this & this before. And oh boy this got long.

✰(Explicit, Complete) When the Abyss Stares Back at You  by skyl_tales

Pausing the holovid, Mace looked from Anakin to Obi-Wan. "This holovid was taken on planet Revoran two days ago."   In the holovid, the golden-eyed Anakin looked at something just out of frame. There was something distinctly hungry and possessive about that gaze. It made a shiver run up Obi-Wan's spine--because he recognized that look. He'd seen Anakin look that way at Senator Amidala.

But it wasn't Senator Amidala who stepped into the camera's view. It wasn't Senator Amidala the Sith yanked closer and kissed.

It was Obi-Wan.  [Obi-Wan and Anakin are sent to investigate the sighting of a Sith Anakin, who appears to be in a relationship with an older version of Obi-Wan.]

This is one of my favourite Obikin fics, and if you enjoy time travel shenanigans chances are you will enjoy this too. skyl_tales wrote some of my favourite fics for this fandom, so if you enjoy this, I suggest you check their other work as well!

✰(Explicit, Complete) If I only knew by wanderlove

Newly knighted Obi-Wan Kenobi and his padawan, Anakin Skywalker, have been sent to Ryloth on a simple diplomatic envoy. While there, an unsettling incident causes Obi-Wan to look at Anakin in a new light and re-evaluate…everything.

The Galaxy will never be the same.

aka: "come for the obikin, stay for the tzai and deep emotional discussions that dismantle every single misunderstanding in the prequels."

Beautiful story!!!! This is honestly one of the most wholesome and "fix-it/what-if" kind of canon obikin fics I've ever read. I really really recommend reading this if you're just getting into Obikin and the SW-verse in general.

✰(Explicit, Complete) Moonlight Serenade by Lemon (@renlyslittlerose)

“Glad you came,” the man said. He pushed away from the lamppost and approached Anakin, his hand held out for him to take. “I realized I never properly introduced myself. I’m Major Kenobi, but you can call me Obi-Wan.”

Anakin took his hand and shook it, their touch lingering for just a little longer than was normally acceptable. It felt like holding on to fire. “Flying Officer Skywalker. But most call me Anakin.”

An accident in 1944 over the fields of France puts an end to Anakin’s flying career. Discharged and sent back to Canada, Anakin must confront the ghosts of his past and find a new path forward.

This is a WWII AU - so beware of that in the first place, but I have always enjoyed historical AUs, and this is very beautifully done. It spans over a long time (my favourite) and does it so well.

✰(Explicit, Complete) To Eden by Unfortunate17

Accused of masterminding the Jedi Temple bombing, Obi-Wan is expelled from the Order.

Anakin is left to pick up the pieces.

This fic. THIS FIC!!!! I don't have anything to say about this - read this fic (in fact read everything written by this author - they have a bodyswap fic called Gray Matter) I really enjoy their characterization of both Obi-Wan and Anakin and the story telling is amazing. Truly love them.

✰(Teen, Complete) Don't be Afraid. by spqr

Tainted by your encounter with the Sith, you are, Obi-Wan imagines Master Yoda saying. Fix you, we cannot. To the AgriCorps, you shall return.

“Padawan Kenobi,” Yoda says, after a moment. “Complete your training, Master Skywalker will.”

Another reverse AU! I realise this is one of those 'either you love it or hate it' tropes, but I do love it, so I include it in my recs. I enjoy imagining the scenarios of Jedi Master Anakin and Padawan Kenobi, so if you think that's something you would also enjoy, give this a chance!

✰(Explicit, Complete) Fearless and the Negotiator by @zimriya

Anakin Skywalker is a superhero. He spends his nights roaming the streets of Coruscant alongside his superhero partner—a man called the Negotiator whom he has never seen without a mask, and yet whom he loves desperately all the same. By day, Anakin works an uneventful nine-to-five at Jedi Inc., doing his best to remember that he cannot murder his coworkers—even if they are called Obi-Wan Kenobi and are the literal worst.

A superhero AU!!! I love his au because it's so well done and so well thought out (the details in this!!!) and I love enjoying Obi-Wan in white spandex. Like that's my bread and butter right there. Either way, if you enjoy marvel-esque superheroes and Obi-Wan and Anakin is the usual idiots they are, give it a go <3

✰(Explicit, Complete) if you love me, let it remain unnamed by @tennessoui

Obi-Wan Kenobi is grappling with his failure to protect his padawan from Dooku's blade. As the galaxy around them plunges into civil war, he overcorrects and refuses to allow Anakin's Knighting ceremony in order to keep him by his side where he will be safe.

His padawan is less than pleased.

Only trying to help, the Force overcorrects Obi-Wan's overcorrection and pulls them into an alternate universe where they run into a different version of Anakin Skywalker altogether.

But Obi-Wan Kenobi is also grappling with new, sudden, and insistent feelings for his padawan. He overcorrects by following the older version of Anakin into bed.

His padawan is less than pleased.

The Force….lets them figure this one out on their own.

OBIWAN GETS TAG TEAMED. OBIWAN GETS DOUB- [gunshot] Look, this fic is hot but beyond that, I loooove time travel shenanigans, and Anakin being pissed off at a future version of himself is so delicious.

✰(Explicit, Complete) Lex Talionis by @intermundia

The ancient Galactic Republic is dying slowly—an ugly death of corruption, sprawl, and decay—with the sin of slavery hanging over its every triumph. The beleaguered Jedi Knights are too few to adequately patrol and police the entire Republic, and are faced with complacency and greed at every turn. Born into a crumbling and stagnant galaxy, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker are faced with the greatest challenge of all: themselves.

Obi-Wan likes rules and control. When the galaxy around him stops playing by the rules, what is a Jedi to do? Anakin needs rules and restraint. When the galaxy around him conspires to set him loose, what is his Master to do? Falling slowly or falling fast, falling through lust or falling through wrath—it all leads to delusion and moral decay. What can be born from the ashes?

Or, how Obi-Wan and Anakin fell to the dark side, obtained their revenge, and saved the galaxy in the process.

An insane canon-divergence AU, this is so intricate and could truly be a movie of its own lol. It features (eventually) sith! Obi-Wan and sith! Anakin, so beware of that, but I don't want to spoil that story. Also that I would never rec any story that has a sad ending :)

✰(Explicit,A/B/O, Complete) i shouldn't cry (but i love it) by blahzarry

Obi-Wan knew alphas that liked to be taken existed. He knew it was possible. But not once in his life had he felt even tempted to try it.

...It's exactly what it says on the tin. Once again one of those: either you will love it or hate it kind of tropes I think, omegaverse is what it is. If you're familiar with it and the idea of an Alpha Obi-Wan growing to enjoy submission sounds like up your alley (it is mine,) then by all means!

✰(Teen, Complete) that mouth of yours looks like it gets you into trouble by @tennessoui

Obi-Wan Kenobi inhales a powder that compels him to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Good thing Obi-Wan doesn't have any secrets.

or,

by god, Obi-Wan Kenobi is forced to talk about his feelings. It's, on the whole, regrettable for everyone involved. Or it would be once everyone stops laughing about it.

Fairytale tropes! I've always loved truth serum/truth spell trope where one party is obliged to tell the truth. Add one repressed Obi-Wan Kenobi into the mix? Perfection. I looooove this fic so much, it's wholesome and touching at the same time.

✰(Explicit, Complete) The Bottom of the Ninth by @ragnarlothcat

"No baseball pitcher would be worth a darn without a catcher who could handle the hot fastball." - Casey Stengel

Obi-Wan Kenobi is the veteran catcher of the Coruscant Jedi, a talented baseball team that have been down on their luck. The addition of rookie pitcher Anakin Skywalker might be a sign all that's about to change.

Especially for Obi-Wan.

Lmao anyone who knows me a *little* bit knows that I have an obsession with sports aus. This is no exception. Granted I know *nothing* about baseball, but this was a perfect balance of actually explaining the sport without getting too heavily into details and making it a perfect obikin story. WE 👏 NEED 👏 MORE 👏 SPOTS 👏 AUS 👏

✰(Teen, Complete) the sound of your voice (helps me find peace) by izazov

It was a promise to Qui-Gon Jinn that had allowed Anakin Skywalker into Obi-Wan Kenobi's life. But it was Obi-Wan Kenobi who had allowed Anakin Skywalker into his heart.

OR (more accurately):

Five times Anakin had to ask for a story. And one time Obi-Wan offered it freely.

Ahhh this author, this fic. It's so beautifully written, canon compliant au, and it just hurts (in the most beautiful, gut wrenching way). It's beautifully melancholic, I always love their works even if they leave me with a pang in my chest.

✰(Explicit, Complete) Conceal Me What I Am by @himboskywalker

Separatist Propaganda is turning the Republic against the Jedi Order and the Senate sees no choice but to join in a political alliance to fight dissent on a unified front.An alliance is proposed through an arranged marriage,between a Jedi Knight and Republic Senator. Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi are chosen as representatives of the political union by Darth Sidious, meant to bring ruin to the marriage and the public's support of the Jedi,for Obi-Wan Kenobi is not the Beta he claims. But even Sidious does not know of the secret Anakin Skywalker keeps, that he is not the Alpha the galaxy believes him to be.

Another omegaverse fic!! This time with omega Anakin and alpha Obi-Wan in disguise. I read this fic eons ago (read: when I first got into the fandom) but it always stuck with me, because I love sneaky stuff like this - also it's plot driven! It's an au but within the same universe, so again, if you don't have anything against omegaverse, give it a read.

✰(Teen, Complete) we should run after each other (and be with one another) by Resacon1990

Even though he’s still full of anger and rage, he pushes it all aside to force a smile and squeeze Anakin’s shoulders.

“No, Anakin,” he says quietly, “I could never blame you for his death.”

It’s the first time Obi-Wan ever lies to Anakin.

or

Five times Obi-Wan lied to Anakin, and the one time he told the truth.

Another 5+1 fic!! I love this fic, also semi canon compliant, and very much gut wrenching. I love this kind of story telling where we get to see the span of their lives throughout 5+1 thingies. This is a beautiful story <3

✰(Explicit, Complete) Swear On It by dirkygoodness

Anakin lets his feet take him a good ways from camp before he actually stops, breathing fast from the memory of his dream.

He squeezes his eyes shut tight against it and holds his breath for a moment, trying to get himself under control. Tonight it doesn’t seem to be working, though, because the images of people he knows and loves hurt and bloody and dead just won’t get out of his mind.

YOOO - this is one of the first fics I've read in this fandom and oh my god. It's kind of PWP - but the characterization, the feeling, the EMOTION. It's all there. It's a two parter - read them both, it's so good, it's one of those fics where I read it and I was like. Oh yeah this happened in canon.

✰(Explicit, Complete) Bare grace misery by @thedunesea

Anakin let out a pained sound. “I failed my men, I failed you, and now… and now this. Could you, Obi-Wan? Could you come from this humiliation?” His voice broke, and then he was weeping, hot tears streaming down his face even as he kept stroking himself, his sobs of shame intermingling with his whimpers of pleasure. The mixture was so unbelievably erotic Obi-Wan felt his head spin.

Or: Anakin gets poisoned, and the antidote that saves his life has some uncomfortable side effects.

Ahhh, gorgeous fic! Have to say the only version of Dom!Obi-Wan I enjoy is Gentle!Dom Obi-Wan and this fic does it justice! It's such a nice read - I love some self shaming Anakin and Gentle! Obi-Wan guiding him through those feelings.

✰(Explicit, WIP) toss overboard what is too heavy to carry by @tennessoui

In the aftermath of the Clone Wars, Palpatine dead and untold tragedy averted, the Republic struggles to heal and rebuild itself.

Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi attempt to do the same with their own relationship, riddled as it has become with betrayal, distrust, and hurt. It's not going too well. Desperate and unwilling to accept that maybe their friendship is ruined, Anakin finds a counselor they can talk to, one that specializes in healing "teams."

Or, as the counselor would probably put it, married couples, which they are decidedly not. Not that she knows that though. And not that they know that she thinks they're in a romantic relationship either. What a silly assumption to make. It's not like they're more intimate than lovers or anything.

I know I recced this before, and I'm usually against that but lol. This fic, this fic truly holds such a special place in my mind, it fits in SO WELL with the headcanons I have of Obi-Wan and Anakin, the little questionnaires they answer in the end of each chapter - the EVERYTHING. I'm not even exaggerating this fic is what's keeping me tethered to the obikin fandom atm. I really get a bit stupid when Kit's fics are involved, she is probably the author who got me hooked on obikin, so I would suggest checking out her work in general. I could rec anything and everything from her.

✰(Explicit, Complete) You can call me baby (You can call me love) by @lilredghost

Four times Anakin calls Obi-Wan an old man, plus one time he realizes how much it bothers him.

I love Sub!Obi-Wan who loved being called baby and who is also a bit insecure and this is why this fic is here sue me.

✰(Mature, Complete) Fringe believers and hopeless wanderers by iiscos

A Jedi falls in love with a kind, but poor mechanic aboard the luxurious, ill-fated R.S.C. Terranova.

A Star Wars/Titanic AU

A titanic AU!!! I love this so much, (it does have a happy ending) and the premise is so intriguing, (as someone who has never seen titanic) I love this fic greatly)

Look - this is OF COURSE not a comprehensive list. I tried to compile somewhat of a combo of new and old fics, of course of the ones I've loved. Please do check out the author's other fics if you like their fic you've read! That's a sure way to discover more fic you'll most likely enjoy. Hope you like this, I wish I could do more, but it takes up more time than you can imagine, so, until next time!!!

[gffa]

It’s been an entire week since I shoved a bunch of STAR WARS fic recs at everyone, but I’m back with more because this fandom is amazing and ones that are some real doozies, like, I inhaled some of this fic and absolutely needed to scream about it. Whether it’s time travel fic (so many good time travel recs holy crap) or throwing two random characters together (time traveling Cal as Obi-Wan’s padawan, I never knew I needed that in my life!) or good character pieces for those who deserve it (Mace Windu my beloved) or some absolutely feral Obi-Wan and Anakin dynamics or peeling back Anakin Skywalker’s character like an onion until you see all the fascinating complexity underneath or Jedi Order worldbuilding (I love those weird psychic space wizards so much), there’s a little something for everyone here, I hope. One thing I will always appreciate about this fandom is that, whatever else you might say about it, there are some tremendously talented people writing fic that makes me fall in love with the characters all over again, who bring comfort with their writing when we’re having a bad day or bad week, who brighten up the world just by being in it and sharing their crafts with us, who make my world better just by being there. People who love these silly characters from our shows just as much as I do and are having some fun out there and giving me a whole lot of feelings and even the occasional sexy times fic to make the day just that much more fun to get through. I may say this every time, but it always remains true, this list is just banger after banger for me, every one of these made my brain light up with joy or fizziness because it was so good and punched me right in the feelings or the fun, fritzing out my thoughts place, to the point that I cannot believe I have 45+ of them for just this one set! And I’ll have that same amount to do again next time! There are so many in my to-write-recs for pile! Because this fandom is just nuts with how amazing it is and I love everyone in this bar for it. STAR WARS FIC RECS: PREQUELS RECS: ✦ Unexpected Awakening (The Rewrite) by Rhiw, obi-wan & qui-gon & bruck & feemor & jaster & dooku & rael & cast, time travel, 127.9k wip    The life of General Kenobi is cut short at the hands of his Padawan, but the sight that greets his eyes upon awakening is not that of blinding light of the Force, but the Jedi Temple he knew when he was still a youth. As he struggles to understand the path laid out before him, Obi-Wan unwittingly captures the attention of a singularly unusual Temple Guard, and that of a reluctant Qui-Gon Jinn. ✦ Crazy Centaxday by Killbothtwins, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & cody & padme & mace & palpatine & cast, body swap, 4.8k    Anakin and Obi-Wan are having an… out of body experience. Unfortunately, no one seems to be noticing. Fortunately, the Team’s weird shenanigans might be enough to save the galaxy in the end. Just why are Skywalker and Kenobi acting so out of character? ✦ A Jedi’s Cloak by ImperialKatwala, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & cody & rex & cast, 6.4k    Or: Jedi cloaks are weird. Here’s a series of events showing why they’re made that way. ✦ a distant fire is burning by e_va, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & cal & cody & cast, time travel, 32.9k wip    Cal Kestis can move backwards in time (kinda-sorta-not really), and his confrontation with Darth Vader in the Fortress Inquisitorius plays out a lot differently. Fixing the timeline while stuck in his 10-year-old body will be quite the task, but Cal is up to it. He has to be. (Obi-Wan, Anakin, and the clone troopers have no idea what to make of Kenobi’s weird new padawan. At least the kid fits in, though.) ✦ all in mail, never clinking by calika, obi-wan & ahsoka, 2.9k    Of course, it’s only after she’s been thoroughly humbled by the deceptively slippery rocks and swallowed what feels like half the stream that her grandmaster, having arrived unnoticed, deigns to speak. ✦ Saving People Counts as Revenge, Right? by ImperialKatwala, dooku & obi-wan & anakin, time travel, 4.3k wip    Count Dooku of Serenno is an intelligent man. His methods may be a bit severe, and he may not be allowed true freedom to plan campaigns in the war he helped create, but he has always had an eye for strategy. Moving the pieces around the board and plotting out where they will need to be next. So, when he opens his eyes after Anakin Skywalker cut his head off, he knows to take a moment to assess what’s going on. ✦ eat well; be well by gingerbeer, rainsoaked_benevolence (oceans_bluem), obi-wan & ahsoka & mace & yoda & shaak & feemor & depa & quinlan & aayla & kanan & jedi cast, 18.6k    Or, Obi-Wan and his (almost full) family gathers to drink tea. ✦ Garberwool by Blue_Sunshine, obi-wan & anakin, 1k    Or: Old Ben Kenobi has a question. Young Obi-Wan Kenobi has a vision. And Darth Vader is left with… a robe. ✦ mazarine by maragny, anakin/aayla, NSFW, 3.6k    Anakin and Aayla take advantage of finally being on the same planet as each other. ✦ a soul that’s born in cold and rain/knows sunlight by Killbothtwins, obi-wan & qui-gon & anakin & cast, time travel, 43.4k    Obi-Wan Kenobi travels back in time to fix things. He also annoys a lot of people. ✦ Patterns Form and Feel Important (It Overwhelms the Nervous System) by ImperialKatwala, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & cody & cast, 8.6k    Obi-Wan and his Padawans have been captured. Obi-Wan has been betrayed. Obi-Wan is dead. Obi-Wan is fighting his Padawan. Obi-Wan is being forced to turn on the people he loves. Obi-Wan is locked up and barely holding onto consciousness. All of these things are true. And yet only one of them is real. ✦ from the wild winds around you by gingerbeer, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & cast, 2.3k    Or, the Mortis arc goes a little bit sideways. (It’s fine. Don’t worry.) ✦ Creché Duty by sadieadlersimp (ethantorchiomybeloved), anakin & grogu & cast, 1.3k    Anakin Skywalker gets put in charge of the toddlers while Yoda attends an emergency council meeting. Surely the Chosen One can handle a few toddlers, no? (Spoiler alert, he can’t.) ✦ On Hugs and Warm Blankets by moonlightpadawan, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & cast, 1.3k    [or: Anakin’s reaction to pain meds leaves him acting overly affectionate.] ✦ Lightsaber Lesson by AdaliaK, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 3.1k    Anakin and Ahsoka’s relationship goes through some growing pains when Anakin disciplines Ahsoka by taking away her lightsaber. Obi-Wan is an amused bystander. ✦ Last Rites by Siri_Kenobi12, obi-wan & ahsoka & mace & cast, 3k    “I’m so sorry Ahsoka.” He said after a moment with a slight tremble in his voice. “I know from experience how it feels to have someone you love die in your arms. To feel them take their last breath…” Obi-Wan is back from the dead, he tries to help his Grand-Padawan through her grief. ✦ deep cuts by gigglesandfreckles, anakin & satine (referenced obi-wan/satine), 3.8k    [or: anakin ends up on a mission with satine, things are tense.] ✦ How to Train your Droid by hellowkatey, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & rex, 2.9k    A bored and michevious Anakin Skywalker is a recipe for something to go awry. After all, reprograming Artoo’s language core is a great idea for a prank… but it turns out, Artoo has a lot to say. OBI-WAN/ANAKIN RECS: ✦ Electric Love by thedeadparrot, obi-wan/darth vader, NSFW, 3.4k    Vader stepped forward, deeper into the cell, and reached out one hand. It pressed against Obi-Wan’s tunic, clean metal meeting dirty fabric. Vader’s suit only had the most rudimentary of sensors – he preferred to use the Force over his physical hands. But this was Obi-Wan Kenobi offered up for him, and nothing less than physical touch would do. ✦ Redolent of you by Himboskywalker, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, omegaverse, undercover mission, 15.5k wip    Anakin and Obi-Wan are sent on an undercover operation as an alpha and omega bonded pair in the middle of the Clone Wars. Someone on Cantonica is funneling credits to the Separatists, and it’s going to take infiltrating a top secret alpha-supremacist group of Core elites to find out who’s upping the financial ante of the entire war. This act of espionage is going to require some class A play at antiquated alpha and omega dynamics, only problem is Anakin has never submitted in his life and it’s certainly not within his nature,or so Obi-Wan thinks. ✦ tender like a bruise by stardies, obi-wan/anakin & cast, NSFW, omegaverse, 15k wip    In a stroke of desperation, Obi-wan mates Anakin Skywalker by force on the fiery planet of Mustafar to stop his Fall and save his life. Taken back to Coruscant and imprisoned, Anakin feels the senate’s pressure for justice, and Obi-wan, his mate and former mentor, is determined to give him another chance. ✦ Neutron star collision by thedunesea, obi-wan/anakin & cast, NSFW, 113k wip    In the aftermath of Order 66, Anakin Skywalker’s miraculous survival after his confrontation with the new Sith Apprentice Darth Vader ignites a sparkle of hope in the remaining Jedi, in the fledgling rebellion and, above all, in his former Master, who thought he had lost everything to darkness. But darkness is generous, and it is patient. ✦ How to Save a Galactic Republic Without Really Trying by Sharp_Tongue, obi-wan/anakin & mace & quinlan & cast, nsfw, time travel, 23.9k    After defeating Vader on a barren, nameless moon, Obi-Wan had let go of the past. But the past hadn’t let go of him. ✦ Heal Me, My Darling by wasureneba, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 12.4k    Anakin gets sick. Obi-Wan takes care of him. For two weeks. Alone. ✦ Suckerpunch by intermundia, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 13.6k    In this universe, Obi-Wan goes to check on Anakin about Clovis after Anakin’s violent altercation with his rival, instead of before, and everything changes. Padmé has already kicked him out for scaring her, and he’s in a crisis of loneliness and grief. He breaks down, and Obi-Wan is there to pick up the pieces, even if the weight of Anakin’s crimes is too heavy to imagine. ✦ Slow Learner by Is0lde, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 12.6k    Four times Anakin tried to fit Obi-Wan’s big dick inside him and one time he managed it. ✦ Hold Fast by Ripki, obi-wan/anakin & padme & cast, nsfw, time travel, 41.4k    The Republic and the Jedi Order have fallen, people everywhere facing a dark future. His world shattered, Obi-Wan tries to change the fate of the whole galaxy – and not least because he cannot let go of the man he loves. But will Anakin hinder or help him? ✦ Baby, It’s Halloween (And We Can Be Anything) by secretsolarsystem, obi-wan/anakin & cast, NSFW, modern au, 5.3k    Anakin goes to his office’s annual Halloween party, looking hot as hell and fully intending to get drunk with his work friends. He can hardly enjoy himself, though, seeing as his work crush never comes to the office parties. ✦ For He, too, is King by MayMeows, obi-wan/anakin & padme & cast, NSFW, historical au, 7.7k    “I am here to present myself to the man who now calls himself King of my people.” ✦ pure uncomplicated love by TheSopherfly, obi-wan/anakin & cast, NSFW, modern au, 4.2k    Hours before he’s due to arrive at Open Circle Studios’ annual celebration, screen actor Anakin Skywalker finds out that his ex, Obi-Wan Kenobi, will be in attendance. Anakin wishes he could be angry—but all he wants is for Obi-Wan to take him back. ✦ Fever by dirkygoodness, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, nyanakin, 3.5k    Obi-Wan wakes up to a cuddly (Ny)Anakin and is met with something he isn’t expecting. He’s going to have to deal with it though. And enjoy himself as he does. ✦ Hooked on You by whohatessand, obi-wan/anakin & padme & bail, NSFW, modern au, infidelity, 5.2k    With his wife’s approaching senatorial election, Anakin Skywalker tries desperately to be the perfect husband she needs. Little does Padmé know, her husband has been sleeping with her campaign manager, Obi-Wan Kenobi, for quite a while now. ✦ The Same Cloth (in foreign stars) by Himboskywalker, obi-wan/anakin & dooku & quinlan & cody & rex, NSFW, historical au, 11.1k wip    Welcome to 18th century Scotland, the only thing Anakin likes here is Obi-Wan Kenobi in a kilt. ✦ such selfish prayers (and i can’t get enough) by decideophobia, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, ~1k    He keeps taking whatever Anakin offers him: takes it with possessive hands, a greedy heart and a gluttonous soul, and the dying embers of a guilty conscience. ✦ sail through the deep, the dark of space by treescape, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, space pirates au, 2.7k    They slipped in and out with the Empire none the wiser. Well, it was more like they crashed in and out with the Empire a lot the wiser, but in the end it was really the same thing—not that Anakin expected Obi-Wan would see it that way. ✦ Of Devotion and Defilement by al_mp4, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, d/s, punishment, 5.3k    Anakin Skywalker wants to be good, to be useful, yet it seems he can only beg for pleasures he doesn’t deserve. ✦ Prompted - Chapter 21: Beer and Paint by intermundia, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, modern au, 6.1k    Artists AU, drunk sex. ✦ and when you look at me, the weight of how i feel is heavy on me by brahe, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka & mace & depa & cast, nsfw, 37.9k    5 times Anakin asks Obi-Wan to marry him, and one time Obi-Wan asks ✦ stay til the dawn, i’ll give you the sun by tennessoui, obi-wan/anakin & cast, NSFW, royal!obi-wan, 40.2k    Jedi Anakin Skywalker crashes in a field on the planet Stewjon. Out of respect for the Jedi Order, King Kenobi takes a personal interest in his recovery…especially when they accidentally form a Force bond, scant hours after Kenobi alerts the Jedi Council to Skywalker’s presence so they can come retrieve their Jedi. But if Anakin can’t remember who he is, is he really still their Jedi? What’s stopping him from being Obi-Wan’s? ✦ short shallow gasps by mysticmjolnir, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, modern au, d/s, spanking, daddy kink, 4.9k    Obi-Wan gets surprised by Anakin when he comes home from work. ✦ illicit affairs by Urgirl415, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 2.2k    Anakin needs something that Obi-Wan is more than willing to provide. Even if it means having his doorbell rung in the middle of the night. Or, Anakin cheats on Padme with Obi-Wan. Regularly. ✦ baby teeth by stardies, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, omegaverse, 8.2k    During a mission, Anakin runs out of suppressants. Obi-wan Kenobi is called in to tend to his former padawan. ✦ His Hands by Aariel, obi-wan/darth vader, NSFW, 4.3k    Vader’s in his bacta tank, and as usual, he’s angry, hurting, and miserable. Fortunately, force-projection!Obi-Wan is “on hand” to offer Vader some much-needed relief. ✦ Dough or Doughnut, There is No Rye by edge_of_night, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka & cast, modern au, 4k    Obi-Wan stops in a local bakery on his way to work for some fresh-baked bread and walks out in love with a very talented baker. ✦ eat, sleep, wake (nothing but you) by decideophobia, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 6.7k    Obi-Wan twists his fingers inside him, pressing, pressing, and Anakin jolts with pleasure the exact same moment when an entirely different kind of noise rips through the room. A stomach growling. His stomach growling. Aggressively. FULL DETAILS + RECS HERE

[anstarwar]

Waxer’s home! For @waxerboilmonth , “Waxer lives” and “force sensitive.”

This fits into the Fallen AU where Boil is discovered to be force sensitive, the war shifts gears but doesn’t end, O66 sort of doesn’t happen, but various other shenanigans do.

Bit of a quick blurb to go with this pic:

Waxer huffs out a breath, his muscles relaxing under the weight of his ARC kit with every step closer to the room. Their room. In the Temple. The karking Jedi Temple. Of all the places in the galaxy this was where he and Boil now got to call home.

He was never going to get used to that.

Of course he didn’t think he’d ever get used to the fact that Boil, his best friend, his partner, was force sensitive. Not just force sensitive but a Jedi to boot.

Waxer shook his head, a crooked smiling spreading across his face as he thought about how much had changed so quickly. Sometimes he’d find himself thinking back, trying to figure out where things had changed, what moment had set them down this path.

Umbara is where his mind always landed. He’d almost died but he didn’t. At the time it seemed like a miracle. By all accounts he should’ve died that day and yet here he was now. Alive, fighting because he chooses to continue to fight, living with - and loving - his best friend.

Boil would never give him a direct answer, he didn’t like talking about Umbara, but Waxer suspected he had had something to do with the miracle of him surviving.

He shook away those thoughts as he punched in the door code to their room. It had been a month since he’d seen Boil and his assignment was such that he wasn’t able to comm ahead to give his Jedi (he snorts at that thought) a proper heads up.

Sometimes Waxer was glad when he couldn’t give Boil a heads up, it always made homecomings more interesting.

This time didn’t disappoint.

Padding quietly into their room and leaning against the door frame he smiles.

Boil’s eyes are closed, nose twitching ever so slightly, something it did when he was deep in concentration. Before him floats the various bits and bobs that make up his lightsaber. Waxer has seen Boil do this countless times since joining the Order but it never ceases to amaze him, to watch as the pieces twirl and pivot, an intricate puzzle fitting back together effortlessly and without direct touch.

Waxer sighs, letting go of the last bits of stress he’d carried back with him. He waited til the last piece of the saber slid into place before speaking.

“Hey you,” he says quietly, his heart thudding happily.

Eyes still closed in concentration, a small smile creeps across Boil’s face.

“Hey,” Boil replies softly, voice a little scratchy from disuse. “Welcome home.”

[fanfic-obsessed]

Mace has had enough

Here’s another funny one to go with my Anidala subtlety idea. Specifically that half the temple has a bet on when Mace Windu finally snaps. This man has been dealing with too many people’s shenanigans and deserves to chew a few people out. 

When Padme Amidala opened her front door, she was not expecting the two Jedi on her doorstep. Anakin had just left for his own meetings, so seeing him being dragged by his collar by Jedi Master Mace Windu was a bit of a surprise. 

The bald Master pushed his way into the apartment, dragging Anakin with him. He forced Anakin to sit on her couch with a dark growl. He then turned enraged eyes on her, “Padme Amidala, sit down next to you husband.”

She sat, even as Anakin tried to splutter denials.  

Mace Windu glared at them for a full three minutes until Anakin fell silent, “Yes I know you’re married. The entire Kriffing Order knows you’re married. Jon Antilles, himself, came back from the dead just to pout at not getting to attend a Noobian wedding party. I’m here to tell you if you kriffing dare to get married in the Jedi tradition without at least inviting your force damned former Master, I will make it my mission to sabotage every drop of caff either of you will ever have access to.”

Padme felt herself gape and from the corner of her eye she saw Anakin do the same.

Windu sank onto one of Padme’s chairs, rubbing his temple like he had a headache. “If I have to spend another afternoon trying to convince Obi Wan Kenobi that your actions are not, in fact, your way of telling him to get out of your life, I am going kill all of you. Honestly, like you have the ability to be that subtle.”

Anakin jerked forward, almost standing before a glare from Master Windu had him remaining in his seat “Wha…Why? Why would Obi Wan think that?”

Padme wondered if Master Windu would teach her his unimpressed glare, with that she might actually be able to get something done in the Senate.

“You mean besides your refusal to share your wedding photos with him, or even acknowledge that you are married, shutting down his every attempt to throw you a party to celebrate your relationship with the Senator, and now not letting him tell you about his own engagement so that he can ask you to stand witness?” The Master growled. 

“Obi Wan’s engaged?” Anakin yelped.

This was apparently not the right answer as Master Windu growled again. 

“I was not aware that Jedi could get married.” Padme said carefully, hoping to keep the Korun Master from attacking her husband. 

Master Windu snorted, “Anyone can get married, it’s the legality and consequences that vary. As a whole we prefer that a Jedi have at least passed their knight trials, because Padawans are still considered children in Jedi culture, but we have had a handful of Senior Padawans that married with their Master permission. And personally I would have preferred that Skywalker not have married one of the only senators that is consistently Pro Jedi, because that makes more work for everyone.” His face twisted thoughtfully, “By the way, Senator Amidala, don’t let me forget to give you the chat code for the ‘what the kark do they mean, will of the Force?’. It’s a support group for Force nulls whose partners are force sensitive. Also a Jedi Shadow will also be stopping by to make sure we have an evac plan on file for you, and that you have the emergency line for the Temple and code words handy. The healers will be in touch to get a baseline for you, then discuss the realities of potential pregnancy with you and Skywalker and options if you want to either prevent or ensure having children. If you two decide to go forward with Marriage Bond Ritual, it is also the healers that handle much of that process.”

Anakin threw up his hands, “Why didn’t anyone tell me that Jedi could get married?”

Master Windu blinked at Anakin, now looking just a bit concerned. “Skywalker, you were at Knight Bing’s wedding to Madam Geller when you were 12. You bombarded me with questions about their marriage and if that means that she would move into the temple. Should you two decide to, you certainly can contact the Quartermaster to see about a set of rooms. There are far too many empty suites in the temple these days.”

Anakin’s face twisted, “I kind of remember that, but it is really faint. Like it is a half dream.”

Master Windu hmphed, “I would go see the healers when you go back to the temple, could be that you were hit with something weird that is messing with your memories. Has anything else seemed different?”

Anakin looked like he was thinking about it but Padme was struck with how casual Master Windu was about memory loss, “Why aren’t you more concerned?”

The small smile that spread on Master Windu’s face was likely supposed to be comforting. “The Force is karking weird at times. Temples where Force Sensitives once lived and studied the Force, no matter the sect, are even weirder. If you don’t accept the fact that you will end up possessed, with missing memories, switching consciousness with other Jedi, thinking you have been transformed into a small tooka, or actually being transformed into a small tooka you will end up with a psychotic break.” Padme was not sure what face she was making but whatever it was caused Master Windu to bark out a laugh, “We’re careful around outsiders, because you never know when someone is going to freak out or use some piece of information against us, but you’re not an outsider any more. You married in, as it were. Now come on, from the look on your face, Skywalker has forgotten more than we thought and we should get him to the healers. Plus then Obi Wan can actually say the words to ask Skywalker to Bear Witness.”

Pade actually stands, then something occurs to her “Wait…Evac plan?”

Master Windu nodded, “Everyone in the Temple is very aware that the Jedi are not well regarded in many places, including here on Coruscant. The beings we share our lives with are in as much, if not more danger, to some being with a grudge and the wrong kind of power. We try to have a plan for anyone who works or lives out of the temple, just in case.”

The three go to the Jedi Temple and Padme sees the parts that never had before. She had been to the public parts of the temple, with its austere serenity full of Jedi who spoke softly and calmly to each other. Within those public spaces were the public Archives, the Council Chambers and the Halls of Healing. Master Windu insists that Anakin be dropped off at the Halls of Healing and that the Master would escort Padme to his and Obi Wan’s quarters, while Anakin would meet them there.

She considered herself a good judge of character and body language, but she had never guessed that there was anything beyond that. But now she passed through a door into a cacophony.  There was one corridor absolutely covered in pain, both wet and dried, with clones and Jedi of all ages slipping and throwing paint at each other. 

“That paint fight has been going on for almost 150 years.” Master Windu commented with amusement, “There is always someone throwing paint around.”

She had never known that Jedi could be as loud as they were, but it was almost heartbreaking when Master Windu murmured that he had never heard the temple be this silent.

They arrived at Obi Wan and Anakin’s apartment and Master Windu punched the code to open the door to a sitting room. Obi Wan and a clone that it took Padme a moment, and a glance at his face, to recognize as Commander Cody were entwined on the couch. It looked like they had been taking a rare moment to nap, or start to. 

Obi Wan’s head came up from where it was resting on Cody’s chest, “Mace? What’s going…” His voice was the kind of muzzy that came from being half asleep when he caught sight of Padme. She watched as he tensed and sat up, Cody doing the same. They did not try to separate, but some of the ease in both of them drained away. She was surprised how much that ached, even as she was self aware enough to know that she had caused the distance between them.  “Mace, what did you do?”

“Got your idiot child to sit down and listen. He’s with the healers right now.”

Obi Wan looked faintly alarmed, “Did you actually break a bone to get him to sit still?”

Master Windu shook his head, “His memories seem to be a bit spotty, he couldn’t remember that Jedi can and do get married.”

Just like Master Windu, Obi Wan took the news with less concern than Padme thought warranted. 

From there, the Healers discover that Palpatine has been manipulating Anakin’s mind for years. This sparks a bit more horror, but partial possession by a Sith (or Sith object) is on the Mission Result Bingo and the drop down for reports for a reason.  This sparks a memory of Cody’s wherere Fox was complaining about his own memory loss. They manage to get the Coruscant Guard into the Temple (by infecting them with a miserable but survivable illness that required the Force to treat. The Jedi were very apologetic but they had no idea how else to get the Guard away from the Senate without raising suspicion) and Scans reveal both the Chips and Palptaines’ continued  mental manipulation of the guard. Once the Guard (and assorted others that the Guard wanted with them) are in the temple the Jedi make all kinds of excuses why they cannot go back to the Rotunda. After the chips are found and Fox realizes that the Jedi want him to get some actual sleep, he wholeheartedly agrees. 

It is decided that with the news that Palpatine is a Sith Lord that the situation on Coruscant is about to become untenable. One of the things that the Jedi carefully kept from ‘Outsiders’ is that the Jedi Temple is a Massive City sized ship, whose levels go all the way down to the surface of Coruscant. They spend two day evacuating everyone that is Jedi and Jedi Adjacent, on Coruscant to the temple. At the same time they evacuated the Clones off Kamino. On the various GAR ships the natborn officers that did not want to leave with them were left a single cruiser (parked at a location that every ship in the GAR could get to within two days) whose hyperspace and communication abilities would return after a single tenday. The GAR then went and picked up various Jedi and Corps throughout the galaxy. Then, barring a single ship with two masters, the entire Temple ship takes off for wild space to meetup with the remainder of the GAR, the roaming Jedi, and the Corps (many clones also wanted to stay but it seemed like a bad idea considering they were all still chipped).  

Obi Wan and Mace Windu entered the Senate one last time. They do not point to Palpatine as the cause, they do not accuse him of treason, they do not accuse him of being Sith. There is no point, nothing that they have proof of is technically illegal. Instead they point out that the residents of every world that the Jedi and the Clones have set foot on in almost a year have told them to leave (mission that actually protected the populace instead of locations of strategic value ended pretty early in the war). Every single one, including Coruscant, has wished them ill. So the Jedi, and with them the clones, have decided they would abide by the wishes of the Galaxy and leave.

The two manage to leave before the uproar begins. They have people to get back too.

I am going to be honest, this came out more seriously than I intended.

[seven-oomen]

So, bit of an idea. My problem right now is too many ideas for these characters, but not enough time to write it all.

But the idea is that it's a Jangobi/Kenfetti soulmate au. Where soulmates are chosen by acts of true honor. (By the force/the manda/a higher power)

In this version of the story Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were at the battle of Galidraan at 44BBY (Obi-Wan is 16 at the time, a little aged up, Jango Fett is 22.) leading to an event where the Jedi don't kill Fett and his Mandalorians. Thanks to Obi-Wan's negotiation skills, they manage to get down to the truth and calm the situation. (And in particular Myles and Jango, which earns Obi-Wan massive amounts of respect by said Mandalorians.)

This event kick-starts a soulmate link between Obi-Wan and Jango, though soulmate links don't fully activate until someone is 18.

Now imagine two years later, Obi-Wan starts having dreams where he meets someone with a familiar voice. You can't see your soulmate's face in your dreams until you are fully aware of who it is. Once that clicks, the person in question is able to see their soulmates face. It has to click for both people.

Once they know who their soulmate is, a telepathic link forms if both parties are willing (even if subconsciously) to pursue the bond.

That's important, because you can refuse a soulmate bond. It's very rare in Mandalorian culture to do so. (Because of their beliefs). But it is more common in Jedi culture. (Though not required, it is very much a choice someone can make.) As long as their duties as Jedi take precedent.

Now, a 19-year-old padawan Obi-Wan and his master Qui-Gon Jinn are sent to Mandalore in 41BBY.

The true Mandalorians hold Keldabe while the New Mandalorians and the Deathwatch are at war over the rest of the planet.

Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon try to broker peace and install the New Mandalorians as the official government of Mandalore. However, things go haywire, and Obi-Wan has to take Satine and go on the run.

One day, he runs into a rather familiar face with an even more familiar voice. Jango Fett, the current Mand'alor of Keldabe, who's gathering more support among the different clans of Mandalore.

So in order to hide Satine from Deathwatch, Obi-Wan convinces Jango to take them both back to Keldabe.

And then you have this little fun and games section where Obi-Wan learns so much more about the true mandalorians and how they operate. And Satine learns much more about their heritage.

And there's this bit of a friendship of Obitine forming where they really care for each other on the deepest platonic level, but they have no real romantic interest in each other.

But of course Jango misreads that, even though he and Obi-Wan have been growing so much closer in their bonds, and he's come to see that the Jedi aren't all that bad either.

And there's this bit of shenanigans and misunderstandings that lead to an honest conversation about how they feel. And Obi-Wan comes to realize that Jango may be the person he'll leave the order for if it comes down to it.

But then Qui-Gon finds them in Keldabe. The Duke has been killed by Deathwatch. And there's more pressure than ever to just deal with the problem before it becomes bigger.

Jango, realizing that the fate of the planet, and potentially the greater galaxy, now rests on his shoulders, gathers the true mandalorians for one last showdown against Clan Vizsla. (And also avenge Jaster while he's at it.)

It's a tough fight, but Jango wins the darksaber from clan vizsla and is elected Mand'alore of the planet by the clans.

Obi-Wan, now faced with a choice to become a mandalorian or remain a Jedi, makes the choice to stay on Mandalore and honor his soulmate bond. A choice he doesn't make lightly, and that deeply saddens him inside.

Jango picks up on this and, although conflicted in his feelings, also recognizes that being a Jedi is the one true thing that makes Obi-Wan happiest. So he gives Obi-Wan the choice to leave and return to the Jedi temple. Obi-Wan refuses again, stating his place is here.

Jango isn't so sure after seeing just how miserable Obi-Wan is without a purpose. So he does something rather radical, he contacts Qui-Gon Jin and the Jedi order, except they don't send him Qui-Gon Jinn, they send him Dooku instead.

And Dooku decides, hey you know what, this place has the right idea about an actual functional government that fucking works. They need some help, sure, but I can work with that. So Dooku contacts Yoda to establish an independent Jedi temple on Mandalore (with permission from the Mand'alore, of course) that will be run by Obi-Wan Kenobi if the boy can pass his trials. He'll oversee it all, but is very much content by just being a helper of the people and being the wine uncle with crazy ideas.

The establishment of the independent Jedi Temple on Mandalore is what the force/the manda consider Jango's act of honor for Obi-Wan and their soulmate bond solidifies into a fully matured bond, resulting in a marriage of not only Jango and Obi-Wan, but also of Jedi and Mandalorian culture. Where the planet's ecosystem is restored, its people thrive, and somewhere down the line Jango & Obi-Wan have (or adopt, for the non mpreg fans) a couple of kids (Boba, Cal, Omega).

And that's how Obi-Wan Kenobi lives his best life on Mandalore. Idk. I never said the idea was perfect, just intriguing.

[codywanweek]

2023 Prompts

Thank you all for voting!! It's now time to announce the prompts for Codywanweek 2023!

We have two sets of prompts for writing and art, which are divided into multiple categories: AU, Broad, and Specific (and NSFW for the writing prompts this year). We'd appreciate it you use the art prompts for art and fic prompts for fics (this is easier for the eventual masterlists asjhfsdg)! But podfics, gifsets and everything else you can imagine are all welcome too!

There is a plain text version for screenreaders here. (Edited this post so it works in everyone's blog theme as well)

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Writing Prompts

The Blue* prompts are the most voted for overall!

Day/---/AU/--------------------/Broad

Rebel AU/------------------/Jedi/Sith artifact/temple

Tatooine Husbands*/------/Little Brothers

Arranged Marriage/-------/Only One Bed*

Force Sensitive Cody*/---/"This isn't what I signed up for"

Sith AU/--------------------/Established Relationship

Modern AU/----------------/Undercover*

Timeline Shenanigans*/---/Dancing

Day/---/Specific/---------------------/NSFW

Cody with a lightsaber*/--------/Bondage

Trading Weapons/---------------/Fuck or Die

Growing Old Together/----------/Dirty Talk

Secret Relationship/------------/Dom/Sub

Battle Couple*/------------------/First Time

Flimsiwork and Tea/-------------/Force Sex

Rako Hardeen/Faked Death/---/SPICY

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Art Prompts

The Blue* prompts are the most voted for overall!

Day---AU

Ancient Greece/Rome/Egypt

Tatooine Husbands*

Dancer/Musician/Theater AU

Historical (Edwardian/Victorian/Medieval/Prohibition era)*

Role Reversal

Prince/Knight*

Creatures/Hunters

Day/---/Broad----------------/Specific

Sleeping/--------------/Forehead Touch/Keldabe Kiss*

Wings/-----------------/Formal Wear

Stars/Sun*/-----------/BAMF Cody/Obi

Light and Dark/-------/Flimsiwork and Tea

Hands/----------------/Sitting Vigil/Injury*

Lightsabers/----------/Wearing a Dress/Skirt

Armour*/--------------/Force Bond