#obikin fic

[magnusbae]

"Quit struggling, you will only make it worse."

Obikin, pretty please /ᐠ - ⩊ -マ Ⳋ

Thank you 🥰 Now imagine if Anakin fell a few years earlier than in canon, still has his limbs and pretty hair, and is currently serving Darth Sidious while fighting on the Separatist side. Something like that 😊 1,137w - vaderwan

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“Quit struggling, you will only make it worse.”

Vader bares his teeth and snarls. He snarls like an animal, like he’s a Tusken Raider and it’s the only way he knows how to communicate in. The thought fills him with an even deeper rage, makes his stomach turn in fury and sickness. He is better than that, he is better than them. He is Lord Vader, not some animal to growl and bark— he does not give a kark. 

He spits at Kenobi’s feet and glares up with as much hatred as his eyes would permit without burning white blind from it. 

“Kriff yourself.” Vader grits out when all he receives for his efforts is an infuriatingly smug smirk. (it’s sad, it’s sad, it’s sad)(he ignores it).

“I think I shall pass.” Kenobi says in that sarcastic manner of his that he reserves for Darksiders only. It should not sting Vader as it does, to be spoken to as if he was one of many.

He should be more than that, he is more than that. He’d make him, he’d—

“Please do stop thinking so loudly, you are ruining an otherwise lovely force weather.” Kenobi cuts this line of thought with some sort of Bantha Poodoo that wouldn’t make sense even on the best of days, least of all when he is busy tying Vader up like he was a Life Day’s gift. 

“Force Weather? Have you lost it entirely old m— argh-” Vader sucks in a breath when he feels the durasteel wire cut deep within his skin, so tight he can feel the instant numbing, indicating that the blood had effectively stopped flowing into that limb.

Concern spikes within Vader, he already has one prosthetic, and he is not very fond of the idea of more, Obi-Wan wouldn’t…. Would he….? 

There is a moment in which he thinks that he would. Thinks that Kenobi had lost any sentiment toward his old apprentice, even the guilt that had kept him from killing him in all the previous times he had managed to get the upper hand. (Through luck)(It’s luck, nothing else.)

Losing a limb due to Kenobi’s poor tying techniques would not be technically Kenobi deciding on killing him but— “Ngh.” He hisses out, teeth scraping together as Kenobi lessens the punishing grip of the wire.

Relief  flood Vader, scorching in its intensity.

“A little too tight there.” Obi-Wan chirps, all amusement and good nature. (He sounds old.)(He sounds broken.) “Apologies, Sweet.” he says with his characteristic charm, his typical ease. (He sounds as if he’d like to retch.)(he sounds sick.)

Vader hates it. Hates. Hates. Hates. He wants the anger, the hurt, the words of disappointment and fury and passion. (Love, love, of love.) He wants Kenobi to be honest, to be direct, to be him. The him that only he knows, that only he saw. He wants Kenobi to, (his chest fills and hurts, his lungs collapse with an inhale he doesn’t manage to keep, his eyes close and he cannot, he cannot lie—) care. Care, he wants him to karkin care. Even a little, even sometimes. Care enough to hurt, care enough to scream, care enough to hurt him. 

“Up and about now.” Obi-Wan says and hauls Vader to his feet. Even in this Kenobi is careful to not hurt him unnecessarily. Do not hurt prisoners, a Jedi would say. The Codes. It’s all he sees in him. The Codes he must follow in order to fulfill his duties. No, no. No, no and no. Anakin— Vader is more, he is more, he was, he is more. 

Twisting about to face Kenobi without being stopped is hard enough, his balance off with the way his arms are bound painfully behind his back. He manages it. He’s quick enough, skilled enough— determined enough.

Without a single thought, without a moment of consideration, Vader’s eyes lock onto his target. The neck.

It’s exposed just enough, with the layers of robes covering the curve of it an the beard reaching just the top of it, there’s just enough space.

Vader strikes as he always does, without warning, without hesitation. One moment he is standing there, wide eyes alight with orange-yellow, the next his lips are closing around soft flesh, teeth sinking.

It’s all over in but moments, and yet the way Obi-Wan groans, the way his throat tenses and he swallows, the way he shudders when he pushes Vader off hard enough to make him stumble and fall back onto the ground— the way there’s blood on that neck, on Vader’s tongue— it’s all worth it.

Vader will do it again, no matter the consequences, no matter how it might look to someone who didn’t understand. 

He will make absolute sure that Kenobi never forgets, never.

Vader makes a point of licking at his lips as he smirks at Kenobi, tilting his head from side to side in a way he saw his Master do while in a good mood and flirting. On him it looks mocking and he knows it.

He takes pleasure in Kenobi having no smart retort to it, no easygoing banter to masquerade with. Vader got him, he had won. 

He is almost angry when the sound of engines breaks through, hundreds of them, all belonging to Sidious. Or the Separatists, as the Republic still foolishly believes. He will never know what words had died on Kenobi’s tongue as he looked up and then down at Vader, calculating his chances of outrunning a fleet of battle ships while carrying an unwilling Sith on his back. 

“Not in your favor, huh?” Vader asks, laughing, not even bothering to get up, instead he just flops to lie on his back. It pains his arms terribly, but he does not care. He looks at the sky as if it was a starry sky you’d gaze upon, wish upon.

“Run now, Kenobi. You’re so good at it, after all.” He does not look at him, does not want to see that back turned on him. (Again. Again. Again that.)

The silence from Kenobi’s side is a heavy one, a painful one. Then he forces out amusedly (Chokes on it.) “We’ll have to rain check our little date, my Dear.” (He does actually choke on it.) (Vader hears, he always does.)

“So long.” The man who raised him cheers, all good spirits and not a care in the world. Then there’s the sound of Obi-Wan’s light feet as he force-runs towards his own ship. Leaves him. 

Anakin closes his eyes and all the world falls down. 

There’s only the sound of shooting and the flavor of Obi-Wan’s life on his tongue. For now, it’ll do. For now, it’s enough. (It is not.)(It never is.)

[thegingerwrites]

Losing a Bet

obikin ft. Anakin in lingerie, based on this post, which i absolutely love 👀😍

Anakin isn’t looking at him. Obi-Wan watches as Anakin parts his robes with his eyes firmly fixed on the kitchen cabinets as he stands in their shared living space and reveals the layers of lingerie carefully donned beneath them.

Obi-Wan should be more concerned about Anakin’s discomfort, is concerned about not forcing Anakin to suffer the consequences of his own actions for longer than necessary. Obi-Wan will absolutely tell him to take the clothes off if they distress him so much.

But…well.

Anakin did lose the bet. Anakin was the one to set the terms. Sure, it likely never crossed Anakin’s mind that he might lose said bet but that doesn’t make him any less responsible when things didn’t go his way. He is always taking risks. Isn’t this one small lesson in getting him to think things through before barrelling into them head-first?

Obi-Wan isn’t really thinking too much about any of that right now. The thoughts pass through his mind like stars in hyperspace because the main thing on his mind, the only words and images that stick around for longer than a heartbeat are lace and skin and sheer and bulge…

His eyes dart up to Anakin’s face and stay there, harnessing all of his considerable restraint to keep them fixed. An autonomic bodily response, Obi-Wan reminds himself, much like the erection currently making itself known in his own trousers. It doesn’t mean Anakin is enjoying this. The blush gracing his high cheekbones certainly seems to indicate embarrassment.

“Well?” Anakin asks, finally gathering up the stubborn nerve to meet Obi-Wan’s eyes. His belt is gone now, allowing his tunic to fall open. His hands sit boldly on his hips, daring Obi-Wan to say something.

But Obi-Wan has no words. And even if he did, his mouth is suddenly dry.

“I wore them all day,” Anakin continues. “Padmé had to show me how to put them on. Am I done now or do you want to take a holo or something?”

Yes, Obi-Wan thinks. Stars, yes, this deserves to be memorialized. He can just imagine Anakin staring up at the camera petulant and pouting, hands on his hips just as they are now, a finger slipping beneath the straps at his waist...

No. A holo would be a terrible idea.

“Of course not.” Obi-Wan clears his throat. “No, I think you’ve done your time. You can take them off now.”

“Thank the Force.” Anakin’s shoulders sag with relief. He starts to walk back toward his bedroom and Obi-Wan, unthinkingly, follows him as he continues talking. “I mean, they’re not uncomfortable or anything, Padmé made sure of that, but it’s like I’m conscious of them all the time? I told her they were a bit too tight but she insisted they fit perfectly.”

“Mmhmm,” Obi-Wan hums, staring openly as Anakin faces the bed and slips the rest of his robes from his shoulders before letting them fall to the ground. His pants are next and suddenly Obi-Wan is treated to the full ensemble, the lean muscles of Anakin’s frame gilded in black lace filigree.

The contrast between the strong lines of his shoulders and the delicate fabric is intoxicating and Obi-Wan drinks his fill so long as Anakin isn’t looking. The garments are more complicated than Obi-Wan was expecting with straps that squeeze muscles and overlap and crisscross all along his form. The dark accents draw the eye to every part of Anakin that is now laid bare, from the length of his legs to the taper of his waist and the perfect peek of sun-bronzed skin sitting high on his upper thigh. Kark, the lingerie is practically painted on him where it cups the curve of his pecs and stretches across the flat plane of his belly.

Oh, Anakin is facing him now—has caught him staring.

“Master?” Anakin asks. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” says Obi-Wan quickly. “Perfectly fine.”

Obi-Wan looks down and away. He can feel his face flushing, even his ears are hot. When Anakin turns his back to Obi-Wan again, Obi-Wan gets his own moment of grateful relief.

The moment comes and goes in an instant, however, as Anakin gestures to the clasp at the center of his back. “Do you want to help me take this off?”

Want is such a terrible, traitorous word in that question. Of course Obi-Wan wants to help Anakin take his bra off. He wants to trace his fingertips over the marks Anakin’s lingerie is sure to leave on his skin. He wants to lick the bare expanse of tan muscles carved between Anakin’s shoulder blades. He wants to crawl into a hole and never come out.

Obi-Wan moves forward without answering. The clasp comes undone with two small hooks and Anakin sighs when it falls away from him. “Thank you,” he murmurs.

Anakin turns around then, probably to tell Obi-Wan to go. To stop being a creep and leave him to battle the garters and panties on his own. But then Anakin pauses, seems to catch something on Obi-Wan’s face.

His eyes flick down to Obi-Wan’s lips, perhaps catching the way he’s been worrying at them with his teeth. The smile on Anakin’s face is small and hesitant before it slowly grows with conviction.

“Do you want to help me with the rest?”

[gaily-daily-musings]

Regency + Bridgerton + ABO

When he was younger and more stupidly eager to fall in love, Obi-Wan eloped with a handsome older alpha. He thought they would marry. He had so many daydreams of their future. His favorite had been of the two of them lounging together in front of the fireplace while Obi-Wan held their pups in his arms.

His hopes were swiftly crushed when the reality of the situation bore itself. After about a week holed up in bed, the alpha abandoned him. Obi-Wan had called around and looked across the city. There was no trace of him.

He had been forced to come home; husbandless and mateless. He was ashamed at his own naivety. But at least he had been spared the awfulness of becoming pregnant. If nothing else, he did not have to bear the child of an alpha that did not want him.

He became a social pariah overnight; ostracized by friends and family. He was eventually sent to live with his uncle in the city. The rumors and whispers followed him but it was nowhere near as bad as it had been.

Now at 38 he has accepted he will never find love or a mate. He is content with his life. He had to be.

He has stopped dressing in the delicate fashions of an omega. He dresses like a beta, plain but respectable. He's also grown a beard. It is unusual for one such as him but he keeps it trim and neat. Plus it's good for business. He owns a tailor shop in town and he knows how lucky he is to have his own income and way of remaining independent. He's acquired a steady clientele and is quite happy with his work.

Obi-Wan has been invited to the spring opening ball. It helps that he is friends with Bail and Breha who are high society members. They were the first ones who gave his little shop a try thereby giving his business a jumpstart. Obi-Wan doesn't go out much these days. He stays inside and works on his suits and ties and, on occasion, omegan dresses. To be honest he'd rather stay home where it's comfortable but it would be nice to mingle and spread the word about his shop. He hopes to make waves in the community with his original designs. He's got a new line this season that he's quite proud of. So he accepts the invitation.

Enter Lord Skywalker. He is 22 and ready to enter society and find a wife. His father has recently died and left him with the estate. He is this season's most eligible bachelor. He's got a rakish sort of smile that's more fitted for a scoundrel. He's got his eye on the diamond of this season: Padme Amidala. She was lovely, well mannered, and not to mention well bred. She would make a fine wife.

Anakin roams the room, conversing and scoping out the omegas. He hears the local gossip about Obi-Wan Kenobi being here. Who? He turns and sees the man they were whispering about. Apparently he was involved in some sort of scandal and fled to the city when he was younger. Anakin blocks out the rest. He doesn't care for gossip. It served him no purpose, and besides, he was here for other things.

Across the room as Obi-Wan talks with Bail and Breha he notices the young Lord Skywalker. Goodness the alphas had gotten even more handsome since he'd last been to one of these balls. But that was long ago. He feels a pang of nostalgia for all the dances he used to do. No one had asked him for a dance in years. He'd probably fall over his own feet if he tried now.

Back on the floor, Anakin isn't the only one on the prowl. Lord Rush Clovis is also in pursuit of Padme Amidala. Both alphas keep trying to ask her to dance or to get her a drink or start a conversation about the latest books they've read. Anakin has about had it. He's never liked Clovis before and he certainly doesn't now.

The two alphas start posturing and sniping at each other. Trying to figure out how to one up the other.

Currently, Clovis has stolen Amidala away for a dance. Anakin stalks the room, watching them with frustration. He decides to mingle with others to cool his rising temper. He says hello to the hosts of the evening, Mr. And Mrs. Organa. He is formally introduced to their good friend Obi-Wan Kenobi, the local tailor. He kisses the back of Kenobi's hand, remembering his manners as the late Lady Shmi had taught him.

“I'm sure with hands as beautiful as yours you do fine craft work indeed, sir.”

Obi-Wan bursts out laughing. He immediately stops and apologizes. If he were young that line would have worked. But he sees it now for what It is: an alpha trying out new material to prop up his own ego with pithy flirtations.

“Forgive me my Lord. Yes, I take great pride in my work.”

Anakin is flabbergasted. Most omegas fell over themselves with his attentions! Even Padme had blushed and smiled sweetly, obviously flustered by his scent and good genes. One would think a weathered, old omega like Mr. Kenobi would be grateful for even a crumb of attention from such a virile alpha!

Anakin bows his head politely and swiftly ends the conversion. The dance had ended and he wanted to go find Amidala again. Perhaps he should say something funny and make her laugh.

Instead finds Lord Clovis. Clovis turns to Anakin with a sneer. “Listen pup, I've been friends with Padme for years! She's not going to choose you over me!”

“If she was going to choose you she'd have done it already!”

“Listen, we both wish to pursue her and obviously neither of us are willing to back down.”

Anakin snorts. He had that right.

“I propose a wager. We let each man have his chance every other week. No interruptions. No sabotaging. No backstabbing. You may call on her on your days, I call her on mine. Then we both propose at the end of the season. Whoever she chooses wins.”

Anakin shakes his hand. Deal.

The only problem? Anakin has never wooed anyone before. It's fine though. He'll just wing it. He's been reliably informed that he can be very charming, so he's pretty sure he's got this in the bag.

-

He doesn't have this in the bag. He's fucked! He's messed this entire thing up!

Their first date had been horrendous. Anakin kept putting his foot in his mouth. At any point he would start to spout weird nonsense. (“Look! A bird! Is that a cardinal?” “That's a robin, My Lord.”)

(“I love warm weather! I love being warm! It's so nice to be warm don't you agree?”)

Not to mention Clovis was so much more up on the latest trends. Not to say that Anakin wasn't stylish, but it was hard to keep up with fluctuating fashion.

This train of thought leads him to remember meeting the local tailor, Kenobi. He enters the shop looking for a new suit. Kenobi is perfectly polite and helpful.

Obi-Wan gets out his measuring tape and starts to measure Lord Skywalker. He makes conversation as one does and asks for what occasion was the suit for? The Lord starts rambling on about wooing the Lady Amidala and how he needed to look his absolute best for her. Obi-Wan assures him he will look fantastic (though the Lord needed little help in that department). As he works Skywalker then switches gears and starts to rant about how he was contending with Lord Clovis for her affections and didn't Obi-Wan also find him daft? How did anyone put up with the man? He was so horrid and rude and overbearing and Obi-Wan lost count of the many, many complaints of Clovis’ character and face.

Obi-Wan smirks to himself. Looks like the young bucks were about to start fighting. Poor Miss Amidala caught in the middle. Then again maybe she found it entertaining. After all, he had thought so once upon a time as well.

He touches over Skywalker’s arms and legs, measuring each carefully. Skywalker was built very well. When he glances up he can see red dusting the man's cheeks. Oh my. The alpha seemed to be getting flustered.

“Have you been to many tailoring shops my lord?”

“Of course I have!” Skywalker snaps. Then he remembers himself. “Though never one owned by an omega I admit. It is a bit unusual.”

Obi-Wan brushes his hands over Skywalker’s chest as he measures across it. The Lord sucks in a breath. Obi-Wan couldn't stop smiling if he tried. It was probably just the mild indecency of the entire situation that had Skywalker reacting the way that he was. But Obi-Wan can't help but be flattered at the thought that he could fluster anyone at this point in his age. Especially an alpha like Lord Skywalker.

He finishes and has Skywalker step down.

“If I may be so bold, what are your plans on your next attempt at courting Miss Amidala?”

Skywalker tells him. It's all very standard and cliche. Nevertheless, he was clearly very earnest. Obi-Wan decides to give him some pointers. He's an omega after all and he knows what one would appreciate.

-

Anakin returns frequently for more suits. He had to stay on top of Clovis and his game after all. Plus Amidala–or Padme now–seemed to like his outfits. She complimented all of them. Anakin should have to take her here some time and have Kenobi make her a new dress or a hat perhaps. He really did do superb work.

As the weeks pass Anakin continues to return and talk to Obi-Wan about how it was coming along. Sometimes he waxes poetry about Padme and how their future will be perfect, already thinking about the names of their children. Other times it'll be about Clovis and his stupid face and how he will die alone and penniless.

Obi-Wan indulges him. He keeps giving him advice as well on what to do and say to help win her heart.

One day, out of the blue, Skywalker rushes into his shop utterly distraught. The source of his distress? He reveals Amidala had touched his hand.

Obi-Wan is confused. This was a good thing right?

“I didn't know if I was supposed to kiss it or hold it or rub my fingers over her wrist?!”

Oh sweet merciful father. The realization staggers him. This alpha was a virgin.

Obi-Wan shakes off the initial shock. It was actually kind of sweet now that he thinks about it. Many alphas did not wait for marriage these days.

Taking pity, Obi-Wan takes his hand and shows him. “Here. Like this.”

He caresses his wrist like one would a mate, scenting it lightly.

Skywalker is blushing again. Goodness it made him so handsome!

“And…and sh-should I hold her for very long?” He stammers out.

Obi-Wan answers any and all questions he has. Skywalker was so earnest in learning. So eager to please the omega he had chosen.

Several minutes later Skywalker asks shyly, “Can you teach me more?”

Obi-Wan hesitates. It wasn’t done. But Skywalker clearly wanted to do this. Neither did he want to send the boy into the red light district. They'd ruin him there. And, buried deep, there was a secret kernel that delighted in the fact Skywalker thought to ask him first. Trusted him enough to guide him.

And so they set up special visits to Skywalker’s home. They were disguised to look like private tailor sessions but in reality Skywalker just wanted to learn more about how to touch another romantically. They start to talk and bond. They have lunch together and take strolls through the estate garden.

Then Skywalker asks for Obi-Wan to teach him how to kiss. Obi-Wan couldn't refuse if he wanted to.

They press against each other sweetly. Just a small nip.

“Open up a little.” He says. Skywalker obeys.

They kiss again.

Skywalker pulls back and scrunches his nose. “Your mouth is very wet.”

“Yes, that's generally what the state of mouths usually are,” Obi-Wan chuckles.

They kiss more. By the end of the session Skywalker gets frighteningly good at it. One would never be able to tell this was his first time. He starts to explore Obi-Wan's arms and chest, letting his hands wander.

They break away, both gasping for breath that doesn't seem to want to come.

“That's enough for today I think,” Obi-Wan breathes.

“Oh,” Skywalker says, clearly disappointed. “You're right. I need to prepare for tomorrow.”

That's right. He was calling upon Amidala tomorrow.

Obi-Wan's heart twists at the thought of Skywalker kissing someone else like that. But his lips were never meant for him. This was all just temporary. He'd known that when he first agreed to it. Still, the logic did nothing to soothe his aching heart.

“I wish you success Lord Skywalker.”

“Please, we've exchanged many kisses by now. I should think you can call me Anakin.”

Obi-Wan smiles. “Anakin.”

He thinks he may see Anakin shiver but it must be a trick of the light.

-

Obi-Wan finds himself having a pleasant walk with Miss Kyze in the park. She was visiting family for the summer. They used to be playmates when they were small and he's missed her very much so.

Normally he would dress in the plain clothes of a beta. But he has forgone the long overcoat and cravat. Instead he thought he'd match Satine and wear something a little more suited for an omega. He currently sported a short, velvet jacket that was cropped around his middle. The tail of it flowed out and around him. Lace and frill adorned his trousers in a beautiful representation of spring. And of course to complete it, a top hat with his own style of ribbons and flowers.

Anakin happens upon them. He is currently walking with Amidala on his arm. He appears flustered and red in the face as if he's been running.

“Good day, my lord.”

“Good day,” Anakin replies hoarsely.

There is an awkward pause as Anakin just stares. He then jolts into action as he introduces Padme Amidala and Obi-Wan subsequently introduces Satine Kryze. Everyone bows politely.

Then Anakin blurts out, “Do you not have an alpha escorting you this day?”

Everyone looks at him.

“No, my Lord. But I assure you Miss Kyze and I are perfectly fine.”

Anakin purses his lips. Looking unsure. Obi-Wan knows it is only societal duty that has Anakin hesitating. For surely the man would not care otherwise and swiftly return to providing Amidala his attention?

“We could all walk together,” Anakin offers, not noticing Amidala’s raised brow.

Obi-Wan smiles. “That is very kind of you to offer. But I'm quite adept at walking at this point in my age.”

“Yes I–well I suppose…” Anakin trails off.

Obi-Wan means to press on, thinking the conversation done. But Anakin lingers, looking out of place and lost.

“Yes?” Obi-Wan asks. “Was there something else?”

Anakin mumbles and excuses himself. He pulls Amidala to him and they continue down the path.

“Obi-Wan, what have you done to that poor boy?” Satine asks him as soon as the two are out of earshot.

Obi-Wan looks back. “I've no idea.”

-

The thing about Anakin was that he swiveled between bold and insecure in a single drop of a pin. One could never hope to keep up with him.

“Teach me how to fuck!” He demands.

Obi-Wan had not even sat down yet. He was barely ten steps into Skywalker's home. He assesses the other man, alpha pride radiating off of him, petulantly demanding attention. He frowns up at him. He doubted Anakin was trying to use his height on purpose but he still didn't like it.

Anakin crumbles, all confidence melting as Obi-Wan continues his silence.

“...please.”

Obi-Wan folds his arms. What had brought this on?

Kissing and scenting were one thing. But making love was another thing entirely. As much as he wanted to, Obi-Wan cannot say yes.

“You do realize you can hire services for this sort of thing?” Even though the very suggestion pains him, Obi-Wan pushes the words out anyway. “They can be very discreet.”

“No!” Anakin stops and clears his throat. Embarrassed at his outburst. “I mean, I want it to be you. I trust you, Obi-Wan. You're my friend.”

Obi-Wan sallows. “I shall have to think about it.”

-

Obi-Wan is panicking. This has escalated into something he's no control of. The problem isn't that Anakin wants to have sex, the problem is that Obi-Wan is already halfway in love with him. It wouldn't be fair to take advantage in this way. Using the little Lord like this for his own selfish desires.

Anakin keeps pestering him about it day by day, needling away at his resolve. He asks when he comes into his shop for a new pair of gloves or coat. He asks him at home when they're talking or kissing. It happens every time they see each other. He can't take much more of this. Lord have mercy he's only a man.

It finally happens in a way neither of them really anticipate. Obi-Wan is currently taking measurements for an alpha in his shop. The alpha was making snide comments about his “shoddy” work and insulting his business. Obi-Wan tries to ignore it. He is not new to unruly customers. This one was just like all the rest. And so long as he paid he could be as rude as he liked.

But then Anakin enters and everything takes a turn. Normally the man would wait quietly by the wayside for Obi-Wan to finish attending to his current customer. But as the alpha continued to make offhand comments, Anakin bristled from his corner. It doesn’t take long for him to step in and defend Obi-Wan's honor. He tells, more demands, that the other alpha leave. The other man snarls, offended. Anakin growls back at them to leave before they come to regret it.

The other alpha takes in Anakin's form. He was taller and bigger. They huff and concede. “Fine, I didn't want to buy anything from a subpar omega anyway.”

Anakin locks the door behind the alpha, making sure they did not try to come back.

“You didn't have to do that,” Obi-Wan says. “I'm used to it.”

“You shouldn't be!” Anakin nearly shouts. “You're amazing! You deserve more than this!”

Obi-Wan frowns. “This is my life's work and I'm quite proud of it.”

Anakin winces. He was always putting his foot in his mouth. “I meant more than what they give you! More than what they say about you.”

Anakin takes Obi-Wan's hand and kisses his wrist. Tender and sweet, just the way he'd shown him several months ago. “You're the most incredible person I've ever met.”

He didn't say an incredible omega. He said incredible person.

Obi-Wan has a hard time meeting Anakin's gaze. He wasn't used to people praising him. His work certainly. But personally? No.

“Well I seem to recall an alpha telling me such beautiful hands must produce beautiful work.”

Anakin smiles. He's so dashing it hurts. He turns Obi-Wan's hand over and kisses his palm too. He nuzzles Obi-Wan, scenting him unconsciously

“I'll teach you.” It spills out of him. He can't take it back now.

Anakin's eyes widen in surprise. He grins in delight.

“You will?” He falls into Obi-Wan, hugging him close and eager to get started. Obi-Wan pulls back, resting a soft hand on Anakin's chest. “Darling please, I'm not so young anymore. Be gentle.”

“You're not that old.”

“Thank you for thinking so.”

He tries to convince this impossible alpha that he needed to close up shop so they could go back to his home where it's more comfortable and safe. But Anakin wants to do it now. He is practically vibrating with need. Obi-Wan should say no. He should. But the word gets stuck under his tongue. Obi-Wan wanted him just as badly. He was already getting wet. Perhaps it was better to do it here. If he had to wait for a carriage the smell of his arousal would only get worse. The driver and staff would all smell him. He'd be mortified.

Obi-Wan leads Anakin to the back where it's filled with choice fabrics and cotton. He sets about making a makeshift nest. Then he takes off his clothing one by one. He turns to see Anakin is just standing there rooted to the spot and blinking furiously.

“Take off your clothes, Anakin. Or shall I help you?”

Anakin audibly swallows. He starts to unbutton his jacket and undoes his cravat. Obi-Wan lies down in his nest, watching Anakin undress. The sight is a lovely one. Each section of golden skin is like a present. He commits it to memory. This is all he will ever be allowed to have and he will cherish it.

Obi-Wan pats the space beside him, urging Anakin to sit down. Anakin comes. He always comes to him. Despite his earlier eagerness he seems jittery, nervous.

“I want to be good for you,” Anakin admits softly, his confession sweetening the air.

It is the alpha that is supposed to teach their omega about sex. They're supposed to be the experienced party on such matters. But Anakin has no idea what he's doing with Obi-Wan. He just wants to make him feel good.

Just like with his kisses, Obi-Wan found Anakin’s innocence sweet. At times the alpha would act arrogant and pompous like any high society member should act; like he was owed the world. But once Obi-Wan peeled back the layers, he'd discovered it was all bravado. A boy trying to be a man.

It was adorable.

“Come here, dearest.”

Obi-Wan pulls him closer. He takes Anakin's hand and slowly guides it down to his entrance. His sex is glistening, heavy with gushing arousal.

“I'll show you what to do.”

Anakin presses a finger against his throbbing hole. “I don't wanna hurt you.”

“You won't.”

Obi-Wan remembers those days spent in that hotel room with what he thought would be his future husband. It had been nice. He had found and experienced pleasure there. And even though it was tainted by what happened after, the sex had not been bad. He'd had nothing to compare it to after all.

Anakin pushes in and every single memory of his first time is pushed out. Anakin grips him like he'll die without him. He kisses like he's on fire and Obi-Wan is water. He fucks him like he's the only one he'll ever want the rest of his life. Anakin consumes him, down to his last cell. Nothing will ever be better than this, than Anakin. He didn't know sex could be like this.

He strokes himself and comes. Anakin growls, thrusting wildly at the sight of Obi-Wan undone. He pops his knot in and it's like something inside his soul clicks. Anakin rolls his hips in little thrusts, riding his high.

They breathe heavily, locked together and spent. Anakin kisses Obi-Wan's face, his nose and cheeks and chin. He feels himself start to grow hard again while still inside the other man. Obi-Wan whines. Just hearing it makes Obi-Wan blush. He can't believe that sound came out of his body. He doesn't remember ever being this needy. But he needed Anakin.

Anakin starts moving again, rolling his hips despite the fact they were still knotted. Obi-Wan can feel his cock inside him harden and grow. He pants, whining again. Higher this time. The knot is pulsing, throbbing against his inner walls. He moans Anakin's name over and over again.

Anakin dips down and captures his lips, tasting his name upon them. Overwhelmed, Obi-Wan bites him. It's not enough to draw blood but Obi-Wan apologizes nonetheless. It was unbecoming to try and bite someone that was not one's intended mate.

“It's alright,” Anakin murmurs against his throat. “I kind of liked it. You should do it again.”

Obi-Wan does not do it again. Anakin tries not to be disappointed. Still, it was ridiculous how hot it had made Anakin to know he could make such a poised and proper man so wild with lust it made him forget himself. He wants to make Obi-Wan make that sound again. He wants to make him moan and shake until he can't stand it. He wants to…

Anakin spills over again, nestled deep within in. He wanted Obi-Wan to be full of his cum. Full of love. Full of Anakin.

-

They are woken in the morning by loud knocking and curious voices. Obi-Wan jolts up from the floor where he and Anakin were sprawled. Oh no: customers. He rubs his face and groans. They'd spent the whole night there.

“Anakin? Darling, wake up.”

He brushes the hair away from Anakin's sleeping face. Anakin stirs. He yawns and sits up.

“What is it?”

“We fell asleep. You have to go now.”

The smell of sex was everywhere. Not to mention one of the finished jackets that had been hanging up had been damaged. God, that must be the client at the door ready to pick it up. He'd told them it'd be ready today.

He couldn't just ignore them until they went away. He had to open the door. And once he did there would be no masking the scent or evidence of what has transpired. It would take days to air the shop out. Obi-Wan wouldn't be able to deny it.

Obi-Wan hurries, stress beginning to set in. He puts his clothes back on then throws Anakin his clothes and tells him to get dressed.

“Obi-Wan?”

“You have to leave! You can't be here!”

His shop and sales would surely take a hit. He should have known better. When would he stop falling into bed with alphas? When would he learn?

Anakin argues. If he was so worried then just stay closed? But Obi-Wan cannot do that. It's not that simple. This was his livelihood.

“It's alright Anakin. Just go.”

Anakin hesitates.

“If anyone finds you here it won't be good for your reputation.”

Anakin frowns. “I don't care.”

Obi-Wan nearly rolls his eyes. “You don't mean that. You have your whole life ahead of you! You have no idea what it means to be a social outcast!”

They stare at one another. The knocking is getting insistent. The voice sounds angry and impatient.

“Go Anakin.”

“But I…”

“I highly doubt Amidala will consider your hand in marriage if she hears you slept with your tailor.”

Anakin’s jaw shuts. Obi-Wan tries not to be hurt. He'd known he was just practice after all. He ushers Anakin to the back door and shoves him through. He closes the door and turns to face the consequences of his choices.

-

Obi-Wan had worked hard to separate himself from his boyhood mistakes. He'd toiled and studied and took insults with grace. And although his reputation would never be what it once was, the community finally accepted Kenobi the tailor. He had done it. He'd carved out a life for himself. But now it seems his reputation was dashed once again.

Rumors fly about how Kenobi was a promiscuous omega that lured alphas into his place of business. A whore. He probably had alphas pay him in sex instead of money because he was so lonely and desperate.

He'd known better than this. He'd known it could never end any other way. But Obi-Wan had lived his whole life without someone to share it with. And even if it was only for a few short moments, he's glad it got to share something with Anakin. And who knows? Maybe they'll invite him to the wedding.

-

Several days later Anakin returns to the shop. It's been quiet recently. Not a lot of clients.

“I'm sorry it took me so long,” Anakin says. “But you were right, I had to think about my future and what I want.”

Obi-Wan's shoulders sag. This was it. They would end their friendship here and now.

However, to his horror and complete shock, Anakin tries to propose.

He starts spouting nonsense and whimsical poetry. “Your beauty has no compare! Your character of strength has gripped me beyond measure! I cannot think about anyone else but you! I love you, Obi-Wan. Please do me the honor of accepting my hand.”

Obi-Wan cannot bear it. He turns away. He was the boy's first sexual experience. Anakin is just confused.

“You're just confused.”

At first Anakin is taken back, asking Obi-Wan to elaborate, then the anger comes as he realizes he's being rejected. Obi-Wan remains steadfast in the face of Anakin’s vehement arguing.

“I'm not what you need, Anakin.”

He was still more of a boy than a man. Obi-Wan knew what it was like to fancy yourself in love. This was a simple infatuation that would pass.

“But I do love you!” Anakin says. “Why do you not believe me?”

Obi-Wan couldn't allow himself to be selfish. Amidala was beautiful and kind and would be a perfect match.

“Maybe you do, but even if that were true it doesn't change the fact I am but a humble tailor. I'm not a good match for you.”

“I don't care about that! I don't care about any of it!”

“What about children?”

Anakin stops. “What?”

“I'm past my prime, Anakin. I don't know if I can even have kids.”

Anakin has talked of pups before back when he waxed on about his future with Amidala. He wanted children. He would be an amazing father. He deserved that if nothing else.

“I don't care,” Anakin says again, though much more subdued. “I need you, Obi-Wan. My heart beats in your chest.”

Obi-Wan smiles sadly. Perhaps in this moment Anakin really didn't care about having children, but he would months or years down the road. And beyond his feelings on the matter he still needed an heir.

Obi-Wan had nothing to offer him. His social standing was in tatters, his business was dying, and he couldn't even provide the one thing all alphas needed from an omega. He was a terrible choice. He'd only bring Anakin down with him.

“No, my Lord.” He steps back, putting distance between them.

Anakin tries to move towards him, but Obi-Wan shakes his head. Anakin's arms hang loosely at his sides, limp and useless.

He was lovely when he cried, Obi-Wan thinks. Anakin's tears are fat and glistening. They roll down his cheeks. Anakin wipes them away angrily, pushing away his heartache.

He snaps at Obi-Wan, growing mean. He says hurtful things. Awful things.

“Perhaps if you weren't such a coward you wouldn't be so alone! No wonder no one ever wanted you!”

He storms off, slamming the door behind him. Obi-Wan swears if he looks down he'll see both their shattered hearts on the floor.

-

About a week later he learns of Amidala’s engagement. He tries to be happy for them, really puts in a valiant effort. But it was difficult.

The bell to his shop sounds. Obi-Wan looks up. He is surprised to find Miss Amidala. She smiles kindly at him. She is perfectly cordial and courteous.

She invites him to the wedding. Obi-Wan is nonplussed that she would do so personally.

“I would like you there please. Say you'll come?”

She did not say Anakin would like him there, in fact she does not mention him at all. Did Anakin send her? Did he even know she was here? Their friendship had been no secret. Perhaps she'd assumed they were in a tiff and decided to do them a favor.

Obi-Wan burns with the need to ask. But he stays his tongue. Regardless of her answer he knew he would go. Of course he would.

She buys a hat before leaving and gives him another undeserved smile. If she knew what had happened a mere fortnight prior she would not have asked. Perhaps she did not listen to local gossip. Or perhaps she put no stock in rumors. Either way, Obi-Wan would need to figure out what he was going to wear.

-

The wedding is held in a beautiful church. Obi-Wan stays near the back, trying to blend into the wall. He'd debated dressing in his absolute best. But it wasn't like he was trying to show off, he wasn't here to win Anakin back.

He settles for something in between, a nice Sunday suit. Obi-Wan sits on the back pew waiting for the ceremony to get started. He'd seen Amidala earlier to drop off her last minute veil. He apologized for the late delivery (he'd dragged his feet admittedly) and she assured him it was fine. She'd given him almost no notice for it after all. She'd looked quite radiant in it, a perfect bride.

Someone sits down beside him. Obi-Wan turns. He almost thinks his mind is playing tricks on him for he swears he's staring at Anakin Skywalker.

Obi-Wan looks sharply up at the altar. There is no groom. Only the maid of honor, Sabe Naberrie. The music starts to play signaling to everyone it had begun. Obi-Wan looks back at Anakin. He's still there.

“What are you doing?!” He hisses. “You need to get back! Your wedding is about to–”

The chapel doors open. Everyone turns to look. Padme Amidala walks through. She smiles at Sabe across the aisle. Obi-Wan stares. And he stares. He watches Miss Amidala walk up to the altar to join Miss Naberrie who–he now realizes–is dressed in fine alpha attire.

Oh.

He'd…he had assumed that…he glances over at Anakin. The other man's brow is raised in question. Obi-Wan turns back to the front. Turns out it was rather hard to keep up with local news and gossip when one's shop was suffering a lack of clientele.

“Padme told me you were coming,” Anakin whispers.

“So you did send her then,” Obi-Wan whispers back.

“No, she's just smarter than me.”

Anakin watches the two women.

“She also said you looked like you were about to cry the whole time.”

Obi-Wan sighs. “Did you enjoy watching me flounder about like a fool?”

“Actually yes.”

Obi-Wan snorts. He can't begrudge him for that he supposed. He did break his heart after all.

“I'm sorry for what I said when I left. I did not mean those things.”

“All is forgiven, Anakin.”

“But they were awful–”

“Yes, they were. But the past is past. It does not matter anymore, my friend.”

They fall silent again. Amidala and Naberrie exchange vows. It was quite lovely actually.

Anakin turns to look at him. “What will it take for you to marry me?”

“Anakin, this is hardly the time!”

“I can make you happy, Obi-Wan. Please let me try.”

At the front of the church the priest pronounces them Alpha and Omega, married until death. The two kiss.

“Anakin please,” he can't do this again. Not again. He's not strong enough to reject this man twice. And yet he must.

Anakin may not have married Amidala, but that didn't mean he should marry him. Obi-Wan was still a poor choice. Nothing had changed about that.

“I can't give you what you need.”

He couldn't stand it if Anakin grew to resent his choices later in life. And he would. Obi-Wan knows it.

“You're all I need. Nothing else.”

The wedding couple walks back down the aisle together. People stand and clap as they pass.

Obi-Wan flees. Anakin was right. He was a coward.

He can hear Anakin call out for him but he ignores it. Maybe he'll get tired of chasing after him and leave him alone.

He's made it out of the church and is headed for the back to hide somewhere when something snatches his wrist. Anakin spins him around, forcing Obi-Wan to face him. They're both breathing hard, twin expressions of desperation.

Anakin grips him hard, lest Obi-Wan wiggle out of his grasp and disappear. He kneels down on one knee. Obi-Wan's heart flies into his throat. No, no, no! Anyone could walk this way and see them!

“Obi-Wan, l'll respect your wishes if you refuse. But please allow me this last try.”

Obi-Wan begins to tremble. They were out in the open, hearts and desire bare for all the world should anyone look. But Anakin is only looking at him. It's as if he is not aware of his surroundings. Only Obi-Wan exists for him in this moment.

“Marry me, Obi-Wan.” Anakin kisses his knuckles reverently, pleadingly. “Choose me, because I will always choose you.”

Obi-Wan is used to having his heart torn and shattered. He's used to people being careless and cruel. But this ache does not feel like he's breaking, it feels like the stitch of a needle.

“I'll never deny you. I'll always be there when you need me. Marry me, Obi-Wan.”

This may yet end in regret and anger and hurt. But maybe it won't. Obi-Wan would never know until he tried. Didn't he deserve to try?

Obi-Wan feels his lips move, his heartbeat is thunder in his ears. But he holds Anakin's gaze and he feels the world slow.

“...yes.”

[lea-noah]

save him

"If he falls, you have to catch him. If you can't, you will fall with him.... Save him. [You must.] "

"Save yourself."

[Ben to young Obi-Wan | Chapter 22 from obikin ff "Chosen: from the Ashes" by lea noah]

obikin edit from Across the Stars series made by l e a n o a h | # 1 | # 2 | # 3 | # 4 | # 5 | # 6 | # 7

the stunning obikin fanart is by @mandhos ❤️❤️

pin | deviantart c | 02. 01. 2024

And the lockscreen Version. Free to use and share (please credit or link) Thanks. ❤️ Happy New Year!!

fanart : @mandhos overlays : Carllton | brushes : redheadstock textures : earthlink cypher-s psd coloring : @urbanflowergraphic

[samstree]

Jewel

(obikin, 1.6k, established relationship, also on ao3) Anakin is on painkillers and forgets something important.

Anakin wakes up warm and comfortable, swathed in layers of blankets and wrapped in strong arms.

The world swims, swaying and tipping to one side in the distinctive way of being put on painkillers. He blinks, and blinks again.

“Mmph…” he makes a confused noise, not sure how he ended up here. Or where here is, even.

“Hey, careful.”

Oh, that is the most beautiful voice he has ever heard.

So Anakin looks up, following the source of the voice and meeting the most beautiful eyes he has ever seen.

“Obi-Wan.”

He breathes the name in wonder, heart fluttering, nearly giddy. Of course, it’s Obi-Wan. He is the most beautiful man in the whole galaxy, and Anakin loves him so much even when his head is fuzzy with drugs. He’d know Obi-Wan when he barely remembers his own name. He needs to tell Obi-Wan that, how important he is, how much joy he brings into Anakin’s life, but all that comes out is—

“Obi-Wan, you are…here.”

An amused huff rumbles against Anakin’s ear, and Obi-Wan’s eyes crinkle softly. It’s Anakin’s favorite look, when happiness is etched into the lines around his eyes. He reaches out to touch, only to grunt in pain.

“Don’t move just yet. Your shoulder is in quite a state, darling.”

The arms around Anakin hold him closer, securing him in place. He then looks down to find his prosthetic arm tightly bound with a sling. The pain spreads from his shoulder to his chest, dulled like a distant echo.

“But I feel fine.” He nuzzles into Obi-Wan’s neck. The world doesn’t spin as much when he rests against Obi-Wan like this.

“It’s all the painkillers you are on. They had to double the doses, with your metabolism so fast. It’s still not working well enough.” Concern seeps into Obi-Wan’s voice. “Let’s not try anything just now. I’d hate to set your bones again.”

With that, gentle fingers run through Anakin’s hair, almost putting him back to sleep with all the petting and scratching.

A glint of silver catches Anakin’s eyes.

“Oh,” he says, struggling to extract the free arm to catch Obi-Wan’s hand. “What is this?”

He frowns at the silver band resting on the fourth finger of Obi-Wan’s hand, heart growing heavy despite the confusion. He pokes at the thing, the warm metal touching the tip of his index finger.

“It’s my ring, dear one. What are you doing?”

“It’s a wedding ring.”

Anakin turns Obi-Wan’s palm, observing the band intently. His head doesn’t feel like his own, but his memory is still intact. A silver band on the fourth finger, that is Stewjoni tradition to indicate that—"

“You are…married?”

Anakin meant it as an accusation. When did Obi-Wan get married? How? Where? Why does he not know about it? But all that came out of his lips is a sad whisper, voice trembling with hurt.

He meets Obi-Wan in the eye, but only finds surprise there. It’s rather unfair, for Obi-Wan to stare at him like that, as if he’s crazy for asking the question. He’d think he deserves an answer after all this time, the love weighing on his heart, never reciprocated. He is fine with it. He really is. It’s just…

He was still hoping, against all odds.

Now that is gone too.

“Anakin, I—You see, we—”

“But you can’t be.” Anakin shakes his head at the silly idea. “Not you, never you. What was I thinking? To be married, you’d need to leave the Order. My old master would never, not the perfect Jedi.”

He adds a dry laugh in the end for good measure, sounding properly putulent now, but Obi-Wan’s eyes only soften.

“Oh, Anakin, I did leave the Order. I left so I could marry—”

“No, don’t tell me,” he interrupts in a hurry. “I don’t think I can bear it.”

It borders on torture now. Anakin knows because he has been tortured. To know the name of Obi-Wan’s beloved would destroy him. All he wants to do is get away. He cannot stay in Obi-Wan’s arms when they belong to someone else. To steal comfort that doesn’t belong to him is worse than not having it at all.

His eyes brim with tears, and he lets them fall freely.

“Anakin, it’s not like that…”

“Just don’t.” He struggles against Obi-Wan’s hold, voice wet with tears, heedless of his injured shoulder. “I don’t want to hear it. Just let me get out of here—”

“Anakin!”

It’s the desperation in Obi-Wan’s voice that stops his motion. That and the fact that Anakin can barely move his limbs, muscles so relaxed they feel like jelly. The ache returns, deep in his bones, but none of it matters when his face is cupped in gentle hands and the most beautiful eyes are right in front of him.

Anakin is powerless when Obi-Wan’s attention is on him, so close yet so far away.

“Will you listen to me? Let me explain?”

Anakin sniffles, and then answers weakly, “…alright.”

Instead of answering, Obi-Wan takes his flesh hand, threading their fingers together. His motion is so tender, so intimate that it erases every last thought from Anakin’s mind.

“It must be one of the side effects of the drugs.” For some reason, Obi-Wan is sounding too amused for the grave situation they are in. “This will be very funny when you come out of it, dearest. Believe me, I want to enjoy it, but not at your expense when your head is messed up like this. Will you look at your hand? For me, just look at your hand.”

Their hands lay on top of the blankets, skin against skin. When Anakin looks down, there are two silver bands, side by side. One on Obi-Wan’s fourth finger, the other on Anakin’s.

“Huh,” he makes a confused sound. “I’m married too?”

“Against all odds, yes. Master Yoda lost the bet to Master Windu on the big day.”

Anakin blinks, brow furrowed.

“But to who?”

He can’t imagine overcoming the heartache of Obi-Wan devoting himself to someone else, but—

“Will you look at the other side of the rings?”

With that, Obi-Wan takes Anakin’s hand again, flipping over both of their palms to show the underside of the rings. There is a small inscription etched onto each of them. The one on Obi-Wan’s is the traditional Tatooine symbol for “rain”, the pattern often carved into Japor wood and gifted to one’s beloved. Rain is the most precious thing, after all. The inscription on Anakin’s band reads “jewel” in Stewjoni.

But how does he know that? When does he know Stewjoni words?

“Oh,” Anakin hums. He feels as if he’s on the verge of a great discovery, a warmth spreading through his chest like a promise from the past. A vow, maybe. “Oh, Obi-Wan! I see!”

“Really? What do you see?”

Anakin breaks into a big smile. “I don’t know! But I’m so happy!”

Obi-Wan’s laugh is like music to Anakin’s ear. Even though he thinks he’s the one being made fun of, he still loves that laugh.

“I’m glad you are happy,” Obi-Wan says, indulgently, “but what if… I did this?”

He takes Anakin’s flesh hand, and kisses him on the fourth finger, right above the silver band, lips incredibly soft. Anakin’s mouth falls open.

“Still happy?”

Anakin nods so hard that he feels dizzy.

“How about… this?”

Obi-Wan trails a few kisses along the back of Anakin’s hand, reaching the delicate skin at his wrist. He looks up through long lashes, eyes impossibly soft, and then—

And then, he kisses Anakin right on the mouth.

The kiss is chaste and light as a feather. It couldn’t have lasted for more than a second, but the world comes to a stop.

As soon as Obi-Wan breaks away, Anakin gapes again. He can only stare at the smug looks on Obi-Wan’s face. When he leans in, Anakin closes his mouth to kiss him, again, and again.

They draw out another kiss, breathing deep into it, the Force singing around them with how right it feels. Their lips meet in a rhythm so familiar, it’s like a choreographed dance. Anakin melts into the warmth of Obi-Wan’s presence, smiling when the soft beard scratches the corner of his mouth. They finally break apart, and now the world is spinning for an entirely different reason.

“Oh, my dearest.”

Anakin lets out a small gasp at the endearment. He is Obi-Wan’s—

“My beloved,” Obi-Wan murmurs, running a thumb on Anakin’s cheek, palm cradling his chin gently. “Don’t you see? There is no one else. I left the Order for you, so we could marry. I left because you are my joy, my hope, the jewel of my heart… who has forgotten all about our marriage after a few doses of painkillers. Tell me, dearest, what shall I do with you?”

All Anakin can do is stare. He stares as Obi-Wan helps him lean against the pillows and adjust his own position so they can cuddle comfortably. He stares as Obi-Wan peppers more kisses on his arm, his shoulder, hand. He stares as Obi-Wan tucks the stray curls behind his ear, with nothing but love on his face, as if the sight of Anakin brings him all the happiness he could ever ask for.

“We are married?” Anakin asks, feeling silly now but still needing the confirmation. “You… love me?”

Obi-Wan looks like his heart is breaking, just a little. “What can I do to convince you?”

Anakin perks up at that. “Kiss me again?”

“That I can do.” A smile, and Obi-Wan obliges.

They kiss until Anakin is dizzy with love, until his bones are humming with contentment. They kiss until The Force wraps around them tightly, reminding him of the familiar warmth from his memories. Of vows made while their hands intertwine, their hearts beating in tandem.

They kiss until another tear trails down Anakin’s cheek. It’s not nearly as precious as the rain drops on Tatooine, or the jewels of Stewjon, but his beloved kisses it away too.

[to-proudly-go]

Obikin fic (Flexibility is very important, Padawan)

(I'm sorry I have no self-control)

*****

Anakin sobs, great hitching breaths shuddering inside his chest and his heart banging like a drum against his ribcage. “Master, I can’t do it!”

“Yes you can, dear one, you’re doing so well already,” Obi-Wan coos at him, his lips and beard grazing the shell of Anakin’s ear. His body is warm and heavy on Anakin’s back, pushing into him ever so gently–and unrelentingly. Anakin feels every bead of sweat trickling down his own neck acutely, points of relief from the furnace raging under his skin everywhere.

“It hurts, Obi-Wan, I can’t, I can’t–”

Anakin whines as Obi-Wan puts more of his weight on his back. His Master’s grip on his waist and shoulder is so tight, and he imagines that if he were to bring his tunic up right now, he’d see blooming bruises in the form of handprints on his skin.

“Just a little bit more, Anakin, you can take it, that’s a good boy–”

“Master–”

They both groan in ecstasy as Anakin’s fingertips finally reach his toes.

“What the kark is happening here?”

They both look up at the voice interrupting their bubble. Ahsoka stands in the entryway of her and Anakin's rooms, mouth agape and eyes as wide as saucers.

“Hello there, Ahsoka. I’m just helping Anakin stretch out his muscles. After spending a week in the healing halls, Healer Che said he might need help gaining back some of his lost mass and his flexibility,” Obi-Wan calmly explains as he finally stops pushing against Anakin’s back and sits back on his haunches. Anakin moans in relief and straightens out his aching spine from where he was almost parallel with his stretched out legs.

Ahsoka splutters. “But why is he crying? Skyguy, why are you crying?”

Anakin whimpers. “It hurts real bad, Snips. And Obi-Wan won’t listen to me!” He turns to glare at his Master with tears still shining on his cheeks. The bastard only rolls his eyes.

“Oh, stop being such a baby, Anakin. I put you through so much worse before.”

“But I was not recovering from an injury then!”

“And you’d be back to the Healers if we didn’t do this for at least ten minutes! Healer Che was very explicit in her instructions–”

Ahsoka just stares at them as they continue bickering, seemingly having forgotten that she was still in the room with them. She heaves a sigh heavenward and leaves them to it–they’ll take ages to stop anyway.

[spacewombatty]

Shower Prompt

Anakin came back late.

It had been a month since his Knighting ceremony, but this was not his first time leading a battalion. He'd been Knighted because it wasn't his first time, but because he was one of the youngest in the order to. Many years before him, and, the war proceeded at planned years after him, the Jedi would be peacekeepers. A Padawan would rise in their ranks thanks to their emotional maturity, connection to the Force, their steady and unyielding compassion in the face of darkness.

During war, the Order needed warriors. If there was something Anakin excelled at, then it was his speed with which he cut down his enemies. The 501st third independent battle hadn't been that.

Anakin came back to the ship with his hair matted to his skull with blood. There was a gash that he'd failed to notice bleeding sluggishly down his cheek, along his neck, to pool and crust at his clavicle. His boots drag against the metal plating of the ship, and as if the staff on board knew what had happened, they didn't say. They parted.

Until today, General Skywalker boasted the fact his numbers hadn't been shaken since he'd taken command. Until today, the 501st were 580 strong.

Today, they'd lost twenty, in one fatal swoop of a Separatist tank bombing ambush. Half of the men who'd been killed were asleep.

The doors of the Jedi's bunk room opened with a hiss, Anakin's shadow darkening the doorway until they close behind him. The Knight paused long enough to make sure the doors were closed, and then kicked his boots off, and flung his saber from his belt in a fit of rage across the room. It stopped in midair--seconds from colliding with the ships metal walls.

And then it lowered, gentle, to rest horizontally on his pillow. "Those are quite expensive to fix, Padawan mine."

"I'm not your Padawan anymore, Obi-Wan," Anakin spoke to the dark. In the dim light from Nithe's largest moon, his former Master reclined easy against the nightstand beside Anakin's cot, his arms crossed. The moon lit up his face, but the Jedi didn't look for long. He didn't think he could stand the pity he'd find there.

If it had been any other person, the Knight might have had the decency to be embarrassed at being caught like this--bloody and angry at the galaxy with all it's inhabitants.

"What do you want?" he asked, tired. "Not today. I don't want to hear it. I don't want to talk battle, or strategies, and I don't want to meditate."

Obi-Wan laughed, and pushed himself up and off of the wall.

"Then I suppose we'll do none of that. I didn't come here to antagonize you, Anakin." He approached, slow and measured, until the Knight could feel the warmth radiating from his body. Obi-Wan had dressed down, clad in night clothes like he'd woken up for this.

"I came to make sure that you were alright, and found you still bloody," the Jedi murmured, tilting his head, guiding Anakin's gaze until their eyes met.

There was a pause, before the Knight sagged against him. It was all the excuse he'd needed.

Obi-Wan undressed him methodically, as methodical as if he were undressing with the intent to bandage. His hands were rough with callouses, and there was a faint scar running along his palm that when the ridge caught Anakin's skin made him shiver. Anakin sat on the bed, let the Jedi shrug him from his robes, hissed when his hands scraped a fresh wound. The older man caught his chin and tilted it to the side, assessing his face. Anakin let himself be guided. Obi-Wan didn't chide him staring.

They didn't speak, and that was it for Anakin, who's words left his lips in a clumsy tumble. As a kid, he'd envied his Master for his silver tongue. He'd hated his lessons, hated the mockery that came with the struggle, until Obi-Wan gathered Anakin's messy and fumbled words in his palm of his hands. The Jedi completed him in a way that made Anakin realize he hadn't been whole.

"Gently," the man said. The fresher was running, the Knight bare, goosebumps raising on his skin from the chill. "Slow down. For once in your life, Anakin, go slowly."

They lowered him into the bath carefully, the brunette wincing as the heat seared his skin and then made itself at home in his bones. Obi-Wan looked ridiculous and uncomfortable, still clothed and dry, kneeling next to the bath with his sleeves rolled. This was testament to everything in their relationship--Obi-Wan's composure a stark contrast to Anakin's rougher edges. The Knight felt small and pitiful, and the sentiment rose the air on his neck, made him bear his teeth and hiss as the water splash at his skin.

Obi-Wan's palm came down, smoothing over his nape, and Anakin felt his the tension drain from his bones.

"Close your eyes, dear," his voice was steady. The Knight obeyed, eyes slipping closed.

And he didn't deserve this. His eyelids were stained with the images of the lost, the scenarios of what he could've done, what he didn't do, and what he'd failed to do replaying in his mind's eye like a broken record. It was marred, it was ugly, it was entirely preventable--and Anakin let death write their names across the surface of his heart like it could prevent them from being forgotten. One day, he'd hoped, it would be a worthy death to suffocate under their weight. One day, he'd put an end to it all.

If Obi-Wan had noticed--and Anakin's shields were abhorrent--he didn't say anything. The Master's hands slipped through Anakin's curls, nails dragging across his scalp, fingers tugging the mats loose carefully until he could massage the soap into a steady sud. The room heated, the Jedi's movements as methodical as the working of a clock, and all the anger Anakin had stored in his chest throughout the day melted away as easy as the soap in his hair.

Obi-Wan's presence was warm. It was all encompassing. It was the closest thing to home Anakin had left. The Knight let his shields fall until their signatures could touch and meld, his former Master's Force curling around his own like a cat demanding a scratch. It settled against the barrel of Anakin's chest, and he savored the way Obi-Wan always made it so difficult for him to breathe.

The Jedi's hands hadn't stopped moving. A groan slipped from Anakin's mouth, and a flick of water splashed against Obi-Wan's nose when he laughed.

Water spilled over his head--crept through his curls, heat spreading across his scalp. Obi-Wan repeated the motion until he was clean, until the water bled pink with tendrils of blood.

"They missed a spot on your chest," Obi-Wan commented. His fingers moved through Anakin's hair, shamelessly petting, winding a wet curl around his finger until it bounced free. The Jedi turned to look up at him.

Obi-Wan's features were soft, in the yellow light. The curve of his cheek was inviting, the hard edges of General being replaced with the man Anakin called home, and when the light hit his hair right it seemed to turn gold.

"Don't wanna get your clothes wet," The Knight mumbled, eyes wandering. "You might get cold."

"It may be hard to believe, but the cruiser had a functioning washer and heater."

As if that was permission enough, Anakin hooked his fingers in the front of Obi-Wan's clothes, and drug him down far enough to kiss him. He got lost in the feeling of the man's mouth on his, in the way his beard rubbed his scar raw, in favor of cupping the back of Obi-Wan's neck and drinking him in deeper.

They kissed, slow, and easy. The water around him bled, and when his Master finally pulled away breathless, it matched the rosy tint of his lips.

"Anakin."

"Don't," he pleaded. "Please."

Obi-Wan sat, and thought, reaching into the Force and picking through all of the reasons why they shouldn't. There was danger written in the air. They were on the losing end of a war where biases could mean death to an entire galaxy. There was inevitable loss written in the stars that the Knight must learn to cope with--and not all of it would be due to death.

But denying Anakin was never something he cared to be good at. Obi-Wan washed his hand, callouses dragging against his scalp, until his Padawan fell asleep curled into the curve of his hand.

[virahaus]

Little sneak peak of the hurt! obi-wan on painkillers fic!! I'm halfway done I think ehehe <33 after this is done, i'm thinking of braving some other almost finished project from the wip game list

Hope you like it!!

[betweensaintsandmonsters]

i promised to forget you (i lied)

the first time he calls, it goes to the machine. obi-wan's voice crisp and clean over the line. 

"i gave your name as my emergency call," anakin says, voice breaking, "please pick up."

the officer give him a look that he assumes is pity, "try someone else. they can come get you tonight."

anakin tries the number again, listens to the tone ring and ring. it goes to the machine again. 

"obi-wan, please. i know you're probably awake. please."

he could call asohka (but he's probably burned that bridge too) she might come get him, lecture him on the way home and deposit him in bed one last time.

if she knew he was in lock up, she'd have his head. he promised to do better.

“i swear he’ll pick up,” anakin whispers, voice lost in the cacophany of the county jail. 

he does not say, he always picks up. he does not say, he has always picked me up. he does not say, i think i burned that bridge, what if he doesn't pick up?

the alchol is still making his head fuzzy, the world blurs aroud the edges of his vision, though that might be the concussion. he thinks his nose is broken. his hand too, maybe. all the pain drowned under the heartbreak.

anakin knew they left things in tatters, their relationship in pieces as they (he) hurled the most hurtful things he could think of back at obi-wan while he tried to be understanding, patient, until even that was impossible. 

"son," the officer says. she's defintely looking at him with pity now, it burns. "try someone else."

anakin dials obi-wan's number again. fingers too tight around the black plastic as he punched the number in again. 

it rang twice.

"hullo," obi-wan says. his voice is too thin, frayed, like he's hanging on as well as anakin is.

"obi-wan," anakin breathes out and the line cuts off.

anakin slams the reciever down and lets out a frustrated yell. the officer lays a hand on his shoulder. he doesn't have the energy to shake it off. 

"he was wrong to hang up," she says, like she's trying to comfort him. 

belatedly, he realizes he's shaking. he thinks he's crying. he can't tell. 

"let me try again. i'll stay the night, i swear he'll call back."

"why are you doing this to yourself?" the officer asks. she's kinder than most of the officers at the county jail. patient with him when she doesn't need to be. she could send him out into the rain alone to find his way back home. 

"he always picks up," is all he can say in response. 

[the-boroughh]

First 3 chaps of "The Withering and Rise of Turbo-Boy" have now left my wip folder! It's an angsty, fluff-filled whump fic that goes in line with the same tropes as my other works. Heed the tw in tags over @ ao3 & 100% do not read this fic without reading the tags first💖

You can find it here.

[topwan-obikin]

Hello there!

Here we are with the masterlist of submissions for our first edition of our fest!

This list will be routinely updated as fics who are still wips get to their end, and after-fest submissions will also be added once they are posted in the collection.

Now let's dive in and get ready for a very long and delicious list of topwan submissions!

☆ Always be my Master by jiminthestreets_bonesinthesheets @jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets [Explicit - 5,402 w]

☆ Don’t Bully Anakin He’ll Cum :( by StarryAri (damndameron) @starryariart [Explicit - Fanart]

☆ The Only Sacred Part of Me by MoonyRoony [Explicit - 5,052 w]

☆ Get My Way by Darkwhisperings @dark–whisperings [Mature - 6,711 w]

☆ love’s a hand-me-down brew by amadwinter @amadwinter [Explicit - 32,029 w - chapters: 9/9]

☆ No more blind dates by jiminthestreets_bonesinthesheets @jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets [General Audience - 2,835 w]

☆ Bunnywan & Nyanakin by StarryAri (damndameron) @starryariart [Explicit - Fanart]

☆ It’s Always Been You by boguspreston & StrangeLilBat [Explicit - 12,601 w]

☆ sleep won’t come the whole night through by veloursdor @veloursdor [Explicit - 11,100 w - chapters 5/5]

☆ Art by @yatsukisakura

☆ Out of Sync by grapenehi @grapenehifics [Explicit - 8,441 w]

☆ because it brings me back to you by amadwinter @amadwinter [Explicit - 12,182 w]

♥ the song has ended but the melody carries on by veloursdor @veloursdor [Explicit - 4,040w - chapters ½]

♥ to love is to choose and be chosen in return by veloursdor @veloursdor [Explicit - 11,530 w - chapters 2/8]

☆ Anywhere Else is Hollow by calico_sky @underacalicosky [Explicit - 34,682 w]

☆ life imitates art by innominatta (ineptia) [Explicit - 6,752 w]

☆ Abuse of Power by athecai [Explicit - 14,673 w]

☆ Show Their Truth by dragons_and_angels @heaven-hell-and-humanity [Explicit - 2,270 w]

☆ Tied Together With You by dragons_and_angels @heaven-hell-and-humanity [Explicit - 4,375 w]

☆ Snake in the Grass by KnockKnockOut @knockknockoutblog [Explicit - 6,718 w]

☆ Yours, Mine, and Ours by MutteringRetreats @mutteringretreats1 [Explicit - 25,026 w - chapters 8/8]

♥ there is a charm about the forbidden that makes it unspeakably desirable by veloursdor @veloursdor [Explicit - 1,610 w - chapters 1/?]

☆ Unexpected Surprise! by StarryAri (damndameron) @starryariart [Explicit - Fanart]

☆ keep a stern hand by faultlessly [Explicit - 5,662 w]

☆ and the sun will shine upon us again by Viraha @virahaus [Explicit - 2,363 w]

☆ I Bring You With Reverent Hands by Aigoo (Tara) @aigoos [Explicit - 5,067 w]

☆ Eight of Cups by Exonerin @exonerin [Explicit - 52,514 w - chapters 9/9]

☆ Untethered Tongues by ashes0909 @ashes0909 [Explicit - 5,851 w]

☆ ART by @yatsukisakura

☆ Tame ART by @blue-lumen15 (also on ao3) [Mature - Fanart]

☆ Kalos Kagathos by intermundia @intermundia [Explicit - 7,220 w]

☆ Tethered and Bound by jiminthestreets_bonesinthesheets @jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets [Explicit - 20,241 w - chapters 6/6]

☆ After School Special by hopeforchange [Explicit - 23,618 w]

♥ Ama'ya’s Dance by UsakoStar @usakostar [Explicit - 2,162 w - chapters 1/?]

♥ Home by UsakoStar @usakostar [Explicit - 5,786 w - chapters 3/?]

☆ My Son; My light by Snuggles_in_a_Starfighter [Explicit - 4,541 w]

☆ Too Hot To Handle by dragons_and_angels @heaven-hell-and-humanity [Explicit - 3,607 w]

♥ Lace by UsakoStar @usakostar [Explicit - 1,891 w - chapters 1/2]

☆ the muse: pleasure in bloom by boguspreston & innominatta (ineptia) [Explicit - 42,444 w - chapters 8/8]

☆ Serendipity by Darkwhisperings @dark--whisperings [Explicit - 6,032 w]

☆ The Divinely Made by silkenlysleep @silkenlysleep [Explicit - 6,142 w]

♥ Electric Buzzing on Your Fingertips by deathbyobiwan @deathbyobiwan [Explicit - 3,656 w - chapters 1/2]

♥ Like mine by Himboskywalker @himboskywalker [Explicit - 3,027 w - chapters 1/2]

♥ Curriculum Vitae by StrangeLilBat [Explicit - 13,461 w - chapters 3/5]

☆ the taste is oh so sweet by amadwinter @amadwinter [Mature - 3,209 w]

☆ This Sacred Skin by silkenlysleep @silkenlysleep [Explicit - 6,069 w]

☆ ART by @yatsukisakura

♥ designed for cruelty by spitfired @spitefyre [Explicit - 1,937 w - chapters 1/?]

♥ How Civilized by Quastake [Explicit - 1,557 w - chapters 1/?]

☆ So Good For Me by dragons_and_angels @heaven-hell-and-humanity [Explicit - 3,854 w]

♥ A slip of the tongue by Viraha @virahaus [Explicit - 1,835 w - chapters 1/2]

☆ some heresy by cabinetofghosts [Explicit - 2,479 w]

☆ tutelage by cabinetofghosts [Explicit - 3,239 w]

☆ Playing the Long Game by MereRauder @mererauder[Explicit - 5,332 w]

[magnusbae]

Anakin is on his knees.

This on itself should be humiliation, should be the most obvious sign of defeat, of finally at admittance of being the force Jedi, of never truly surpassing Obi-Wan in anything by brutal strength. What of wisdom, what of listening to the living force and filtering the mud and fuss, what of true servitude, what of being....good... of being just.

There is nothing of this within Anakin. He is tainted with anger and hatred and jealousy. He needs to have, he needs to posses, he needs to be loved and to love, to love so completely it'll burn away all that hs should be. He is too damaged to truly be a Jedi, and Obi-Wan?

Obi-Wan Kenobi is perfect. All what a jedi should be, all that a man should be, all that...

A gentle hand caress through his hair. His Master is unmoving otherwise, standing straight and proper and in control. He shows no emotion on his face, within his force signature. He is a fine statue of a proper jedi and yet.... he embraces Anakin's head and lets him lean in, lean his face against his Master's tan robes.

Oh, oh to be close to him. Oh to be seen by him kindly. Oh, oh to be lov.....

The word die within his heart, the word is beaten and hallowed and used up till it's barely there.

If only it could be used by the man, if only... then Anakin would... surely it will fix him, them, everything. Right?

He reaches his hands up, would be prayer, he takes a hold of his Master's belt, holding upon i for balance, for stopping him from leaving.

His Master does not leave. His Master radiates a deep, reserve sadness through the force, strong enough to sip through impeccable shields. His Master looks down at him, Anakin can feel that. He does not dare look up. He will not live to see a rejection in those blue eyes.

He will stay here, within his Master's protective shadow, where he belongs. Where he should never left.

[thegingerwrites]

I'm calling this "the grass isn't always greener au" and I'll probably never write it but it was stuck in my head today:

The Clone Wars are over, Palpatine is dead and the galaxy is more at peace than it has been in a lifetime. Anakin is no longer a Jedi. He has been living with Padmé and their children for two years now and everything is fine. Everything is definitely, absolutely fine.

And yet Anakin can't help but feel like he made some kind of mistake in leaving the Order when Padmé told him she was pregnant. He can't regret her or their children. He can't regret the fact that he no longer has to deflect blaster bolts on a daily basis. He can't regret peace.

But he does miss Obi-Wan. The ragged threads of their bond are still present in his mind when he can bring himself to sense them. (And he does, often, like picking at a scab or the empty cavity of a missing tooth. He prods at the empty space, making sure never to go far enough as to make Obi-Wan aware of it. He hasn't seen Obi-Wan in months). He misses having a purpose, a bright shining goal, the feeling of fulfilling his destiny even if the pursuit of that destiny aged him in ways he is still coming to terms with.

He was never the Jedi he should have been but now he is no longer a Jedi at all. And maybe if he had held himself together for just a little longer, he could still be one today.

The Force gives him the chance to find out.

Anakin wakes up in the body of Darth Vader, two years after the fall of the Republic, broken and in pain, fully invested in the power of the dark side.

He flees the Executor as soon as he can. Taking stock of his mechanical limbs, full-body burns, and life support suit, Anakin has no idea where he is or what has happened to him. But this is him, some alternate version of him. When he takes off the helmet and stares into his reflection in transparisteel window of his escape pod, he sees himself. Despite the changes, the burns, the eyes, he recognizes himself.

He seeks out Obi-Wan through the tenuous, broken bond in both of their minds. This may not be his world and this might not be his master, but Anakin knows he could find Obi-Wan anywhere if he allows himself to reach out to that connection again.

Darth Vader appears on Obi-Wan's doorstep on Tatooine, begging for his help. It takes Obi-Wan time to understand what is happening but they sit and talk and everything that happened in the last days of the Republic is slowly revealed. Everything that Anakin did, everything that he became.

They talk for hours, Anakin reveling in Obi-Wan's companionship again, taken aback by how much his master loves him, even this version of him and all that he did, and Obi-Wan nearly brought to tears by the idea of having Anakin back again. What Obi-Wan wouldn't do to sit side by side with Anakin again, to have even the smallest speck of hope that Anakin might come back to him.

By the light of his hearthfire, Obi-Wan asks Anakin to take off his mask, so that he can see his face again. Anakin would do anything for his master but especially this older, sadder version who loves him so desperately and he obliges. Obi-Wan reaches a gentle hand out to stroke Anakin's pock-marked cheek. He presses a kiss to his pale and scarred forehead.

Then Anakin wakes up in bed with his wife, pulled completely from the alternate reality and back in his body again, his eyes wet with tears. Without hesitation, he reaches out to his bond with Obi-Wan and pulls.

Perhaps Anakin didn't make a mistake in choosing peace. But he certainly made one in leaving Obi-Wan behind. And if Obi-Wan's love could survive all of that, it can definitely handle a few years of strained silence and damaged trust.

Anakin races up the steps of the Jedi Temple in early morning sunlight and for the first time in two years, meets his old Master for tea.

[underacalicosky]

I found myself with some extra time this afternoon and wrote a little Obikin ficlet inspired by @aberrantcreature's artwork that features Harpywan and Harpykin. It's G-rated. They're harpy eagles. They're cute and I love them.

[lea-noah]

you are gone

"You're gone and took everything with you. Anakin, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. [Please come back to me, please, please...]"

obikin edit from Across the Stars series made by l e a n o a h | # 1 | # 2 | # 3 | # 4 | #5 | # 6 | # 7

and heartbreaking obikin fanart by @mandhos 😭😭❤️

pin | deviantart c | 04. 01. 2024

The lockscreen Version. 👇 Free to use and share (please credit or link) Thanks.

fanart : @mandhos overlays : Carllton | brushes : redheadstock textures : mart-production cypher-s ravenorlov pai

" . . . "

Sand. Sun or suns, for it’s fiery hot. Burning. Everything burns. He’s on his knees, one hand dug in searing sand and the other clasping his robe, where his heart is trying to claw itself out of his chest. It burns too. No, more. Much stronger. He can’t breathe. He is chocking. Or crying, screaming, perhaps all together, and his eyes are burning with tears like blood. He can’t hear anything clearly, but the screams echo in physical waves through him and he doesn’t need to hear it, he feels it. The wrenching agony bleeding through the broken voice. It’s his voice. He is screaming. It could be his death he calls or curses, yet it’s a name. He knows it, for his heart is ripped open every single time he cries it out. And it’s only that name.

He feels the force constricting inside of him, or that could be his mind. Still, there’s this… hole, it’s the absence of something, which he senses, like his soul being sliced in two, leaving him with the broken part, that persistently is reaching for the other, the missing half. He realizes then, that the name belongs to it. He calls it out, screams it and whispers, in splitting despair, reaching out for his half, that no more exists. It’s gone. Forever. And there’s cold grief breaking out to his very bones at that knowledge. Grief and something other. Something ugly, disgusting, revolting, something so very wrong, it’s undoing his whole being, corrupting him.

He knows what it is. He thinks it’s hate, and he’s not wrong. Only it’s worse.

It’s guilt.

It’s self-hatred.

With each call of that ruining name, it gets colder and not even all the suns and stars in the universe would ever free himself of that lacerating cold. The world freezes. The sand is dust as his heart became.

Only a name is flying dust across the emptiness of dead desserts, far, far away from him. To another time. Another universe.

"Anakin!"

| Chapter 2 from "Chosen: from the Ashes" by lea noah

[samstree]

helloooooooo. for the kiss prompts: 18. grabbing your lover by the collar for obikin, please and thank you!

Hello dear, I love the way your brain works ;)

“Before you go,” Anakin grins, blocking the doorway, all smugness and boyish charm. His durasteel hand rests on top of Artoo. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Oh, suppose I have.”

When Obi-Wan grabs Anakin by the collar and brings him into a quick kiss—quick yet devouring—the grin decidedly turns into a dark blush.

“I…” Anakin looks rather dazed when Obi-Wan is finished with him. “I meant… bring, um, Artoo with you.”

Obi-Wan brushes past him with satisfaction, patting Anakin’s little friend gently, and the astromech follows with a chirpy beep. “I know, darling.”

He winks, smiling wickedly, proudly.