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imabeautifulbutterfly · 3 months

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Ok, this is so fun! Congrats again!

I'll pick...Hunter (shocked, I'm sure.)

How about: "I don't think I've ever seen you smile" and "Oh, don't be cute"/"Wait, did you just say that I'm cute?"

Thanks!!

Carol (@clonethirstingisreal)

Thank you @clonethirstingisreal - I hope you love this Carol, it actually brought a smile to my face as I was writing it.

Enjoy, love oo.

One Meal

Warnings: knife flipping, allusions to loss, slight angst, fluff. I think that's it, if I miss any please let me know.

Main Master List | Star Wars Fic Roulette

Hunter flicked his knife back and forth in between his fingers, as he contemplated the next mission. Things were … different, since you joined. Not good or bad … just different. It been about six months, and yes, the Marauder was cleaner and didn’t have that lingering smell anymore, and yes, the meals had gotten better too, because you refused to just eat the ration bars the GAR provided. And … okay, it was nice to see your smiling face in the morning, compared to the miserable faces of his brothers.

Yet, he still felt awkward around you. He wanted to laugh with you, like you could so easily with Wrecker, to have deep discussion, like you could with Tech, even philosophical discussions like you did with Echo. Hell, he’d be happy if he could just do target practice with you, like you did with Crosshair, but … every time he opened his mouth, he was curt, short tempered, and on edge.

It wasn’t even your fault, it was just him.

He stood from his seat, heading down the ramp and taking in a breath of fresh air. You were cooking dinner, doing your best to teach Wrecker that just because salt tasted good, didn’t mean he had to put in a whole table spoon full.

It made him laugh a little as you tried to explain in your most patient voice possible, that you’d fix the dinner and Wrecker could go help Tech or Crosshair with something else. It was your polite way of saying ‘go away.’

Hunter tried but he couldn’t stop the smile on his lips, as he walked over to you.

"I don't think I've ever seen you smile" you pointed out as he walked up to you. “What’s got you so happy?”

“Oh, I just saw how you were very tactful with Wrecker. It was funny.”

You shrugged trying to fight back your own laughter as you tried to fix the stew, by adding more water, “He tried. I’m grateful he’s willing to learn.”

“Need help? I’m not completely inept when it comes to cooking.”

You looked a little surprised when he asked, not that his offering to help was a real shock, it was the fact you realized this was the first time you two had a proper conversation. “Um … yeah, if you don’t mind using your handy dandy knife there, that you like flipping around so much, to cut up some of these veggies so I can add them, that’d be great.”

Hunter chuckled at your description, as he nodded, taking a seat and getting to work, “Where did you learn to cook?” He asked, hoping to get to know you a little better.

“My mom and grandmother. They were adamant that I learn how to feed an army if I ever needed to …” you chuckled, “I had a big family, back home. Usually there would be around twenty of us for dinner.”

“Twenty? Did you have a lot of siblings?”

“No. It was just me. But I had uncles, aunts, cousins, friends, neighbours, anyone and everyone who needed a meal could always come to our place for dinner. We never turned away anyone in need of a good meal.”

“Sounds nice.”

“It was …” a sadness passed your face, as you thought back to what had once been your home, until the Separatist droid army showed up, and destroyed everything you had held so dear.

Hunter saw your smile slip, it pained him to see that you had been through so much, although he hadn’t heard about it directly from you, he did overhear what had happened when you were talking with Tech. “Well we appreciate all your efforts, especially when you’re trying to teach us neanderthals how to cook.”

You giggled a little, pushing away the sad thoughts that had encapsulated your mind for a split second, “You’re not neanderthals.”

“We’re not exactly proper either. Couldn’t say, we’re exactly suited for a posh dinner.”

You shook your head as you laughed, “You don’t need to be suited for a posh dinner, you just need to show up to eat.” You smiled as you turned to look at him, smirking as you saw how perfectly he cut each vegetable.

You walked over and grabbed the tray of veggies, and dropped them into the stew, “Thanks for your help.”

“Of course. Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure”

“Why do you take care of us? I mean granted the Marauder smells a lot better, and the meals you cook are much better than the GAR rations, but … why do you do it?”

You stirred the stew as you contemplated the question, “I guess … because you feel like family to me.” You turned to look at him, truthfully, he was the only one that you didn’t think of as family, you wanted something more with him, something special, but seeing as this was the first time you two actually talked, it might be a bit far-fetched to imagine that could possibly happen. “And, I love seeing how my food makes you guys happy. Wrecker, has the biggest smile on his face, whenever he eats when I cook. Tech has this adorable blush, although he’ll never admit how much he enjoys my cooking. And Crosshair … well he always comes back for seconds; and frankly, between you and me, he needs to eat more. He’s too skinny. I could break off his collarbone if I needed.”

“I enjoy it too,” Hunter clarified as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “I might not say it, but I always look forward to your cooking.” He blushed and turned his head away, not wanting you to see how much of an effect you had on him, and not just because of your cooking.

You laughed at his reaction, "Oh, don't be cute” you teased, “I might have to walk over there and pinch your cheeks.”

Hunter started to laugh, when he realized what you said, “Wait, did you just say that I'm cute?"

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Tag list:

@liadamerondjarin @badbatch-simp24@spicymcnuggies@lady-ren @firstofficerwiggles @darkangel4121 @discofern @kavecika @monako-jinn-stories @ladykatakuri @avathebestx @theroguesully @furyhellfire66 @carodealmeida @ciramaris @sprout-fics @twinkofthedink @dindjarin-mandalorian @ulchabhangorm @littlemisspascal @tortor-mcgee @vodika-vibes @clonethirstingisreal

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aberrantcreature · 4 months

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Obikin - World Between Worlds

Imagine this, if you will, a universe in which Anakin is brutally killed. He dies never knowing how much Obi-Wan loved him, because Obi-Wan never told him. His master never admitted how deep his attachment and fondness for his padawan went. How proud he was of him, how highly he thought of him, how much he loved him more than anything. Obi-Wan has to see his beloved Anakin die and know that he died never knowing any of that. Anakin died thinking his master cared about him in a more basic way, and Obi-Wan is swallowed whole with regret and sorrow.

It’s a regret he cannot live with. A world without Anakin is not one Obi-Wan can live with.

He leaves the Jedi Order, everything behind, with only one goal: to get Anakin back. The darkness offers him power in ways the light never could, methods and ways to possibly get him what he wants. He accepts the help willingly, exhausting every effort and getting rid of every obstacle in his way.

Eventually, his tunnel vision goal, the only reason for his continued existence, gets him to the World Between Worlds.

He walks down the passages of starlight searching and searching and searching. Looking into the doorways and not finding what he’s searching for. After all this time, after all he’s done, and he gets nothing for it?!

Just as he debated taking his red saber and ending his journey, he sees another figure down the path facing him.

Anakin. One with some grey in his hair and vibrant gold in his eyes. Tattered and tired and ruthless and goal-driven. Obi-Wan knows because he sees the same thing in the mirror every day.

It’s an Anakin that had lost his Obi-Wan.

And here, they meet.

#obikin #star wars #Obikin prompt #writing ideas #world between worlds #fanfiction #fan fic writing #blurb

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roughdaysandart · 1 month

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ABUELA DJARIN???

I'm sorry, WHERE is the fic of Din Djarin hiring a granny (60+) as a babysitter and her becoming like an abuela to him? WHERE? THERES GOTTA BE ONE OR THERE SHOULD BE.

Making kick-ass food, teaching songs and life lessons, making knitted things for grogu and Din (a knitted headscarf for under the helmet, knitted gun holsters and sitchings in the ripped cape, embroidered flowers?!)

And, oh yeah, maybe being a sharpshooter or some secret badass shit like that but using her granny appearance to her advantage? What if she's secretly a really old widowed mandalorian?! Maybe she's an apostate so she shows her face, maybe she did it for something important?!

"You think he's scary, you should see the woman."

"What, his wife?"

"No...his ma"

Forget SMUT, WHERE IS ABUELA DJARIN?!

HOLT SHIT SOMEBODY WRITE THIS I BEG OF YOU.

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thedynamicworm · 6 months

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I see all your “anakin was found by the sith as an infant” AUs and raise you:

Everything’s the same in Star Wars except the roles for the main cast in TPM are reversed (ie. Qui gon and obi wan are sith, while darth maul is a Jedi, though the Jedi order is still the same) but the events still play out largely the same (maul kills qui gon, obi wan takes anakin on as his apprentice, with palpatine keeping a close eye on his training, though the rule of two would be pretty much ignored by palpatine here, and padme is still saved, this time by maul). Basically the entire disaster lineage are sith in this, barring yoga and ahsoka. I want ahsoka to still be a Jedi in this, so maybe she’s mauls apprentice here.

I can see Obi wan still becoming a general, maybe he is masquerading as a regular military general, so he still gets to interact with the clones. When obi wan is sent to infiltrate the army, palps ends up taking anakin as his full apprentice. Also, I want ahsoka to be the one to

This can either make the prequels more tragic or less tragic, depending on how it plays out. The cast could have something like an almost redemption arc, only to have it ripped away at the last moment, falling back into darkness.

Or, by the end of the clone wars, with Padmes pregnancy and ahsoka convincing him, anakin turns back to the light, killing Palpatine. By this point, Obi wan would have already been secretly turned by either Cody or maul (yes I am a multishipper), so he’s also becoming a Jedi with anakin.

Yeah, I don’t really know where I’m going with this, so anyone feel free to add on :)

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kybercrystals94 · 8 months

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I Miss You

By KyberCrystals94

Read on Ao3 here!

Whumptober 2023|Day 5|Alternative Prompt: Playing Cards

Bad Things Happen Bingo|Prompt: Crying Themselves to Sleep

Rating: G

Words: 785

Summary: Echo discovers a message from a brother.

“Those look so old!” Wrecker declares, leaning on the upper bunk to scrutinize the playing cards Echo is sorting through.

Echo smiles. “That’s because they are old. I pilfered them off a graduated trooper when I was a cadet.”

“You stole them?” Wrecker sounds as impressed as he is surprised. “I thought you never broke a rule in your life.”

“With the right motivation, I’ve been persuaded to bend a few.” Echo chuckles. “Technically, they were contraband for the guy I stole them from. So, really, I was doing him a favor.”

Wrecker grins. “That’s neat you still have them even after they thought you were blown up.”

Echo’s smile falls slightly as he continues to set the cards out, dividing them into suits. “Yeah, when they thought I died, they went to my old batch mate, Fives. After Fives, they went to Rex, and then Rex gave them back to me when I-"

"Came back to life?” Wrecker offers.

“Sure,” Echo says. “When that happened.”

“I don’t think you could even shuffle them if you tried.” Wrecker laughs.

“They’ve definitely seen better days.”

The cards are dogeared, and every one of them has been folded into quarters because of the time Cutup tried to cheat at Sabaac. He folded a few of them so he could identify them in someone’s hand. When the other Dominos found out, they had painstakingly copied the folds on every single card so they all matched. Echo had been so angry at his squad mate, but he desperately wishes he could take back the harsh words that came out of his mouth. After all, they were just cards. A toy. Nowhere near as important as the individuals that played with them.

Echo finds the card he is looking for, the one that had made this deck obsolete. He had accidentally dropped the card in his cup of caf, discoloring it. Fives had suggested they stain all the cards in caf to match; however, Echo decided to retire the deck and get a new one. The old deck was tucked away in his storage bin in the barracks on Kamino, carrying too many memories in its deteriorated fibers to throw away.

Echo holds up the stained card for Wrecker's inspection. “I dropped it in my caf. It’s the reason we didn’t play with this deck anymore,” he explains.

“What does it say?” Wrecker asks.

“What does what say?”

Wrecker points to the back of the card. “On the back. There’s writing.”

Echo flips the card around, squinting to make out the ink of a pen on the intricately designed backing.

I miss you.

Echo feels like the air has been stolen from his lungs.

Fives wrote those words. There is no doubt in Echo’s mind. Not before the Citadel mission. After. After Echo died. After Fives went back to Kamino. Echo can see him. Sitting in their barracks, sorting through Echo’s meager collection of personal effects. He’s searching for a playing card stained in caf. He writes the three words, handwriting ragged by a trembling hand. A note for the brother he lost. That he'd never get back. I miss you.

“Echo!”

Echo blinks and finds that Wrecker has half climbed into the bunk with him, a hand on each of his shoulders. “You with me, buddy?” Wrecker asks.

“Yeah,” Echo croaks. He clears his throat. “Yeah. Sorry.”

Wrecker’s good eye searches Echo’s face, trying to understand. “You scared me there for a second. You sorta zoned out, and then your breathing got weird.”

“Sorry,” Echo says again. Emotions bubble up, threaten to burst out of him, card still gripped in his flesh hand. Dark, inky, familiar script carving into his mind. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you.

“Did I do something?” Wrecker asks, climbing down from his precarious perch.

Echo shakes his head and tries to reassure the man with a thin smile. “No, you didn’t do anything. It’s just…” Echo holds up the card. “The writing. It’s a note from my batch mate, Fives.”

He leaves it at that, and Wrecker doesn’t ask for more. Instead, he offers Echo a kind smile. “I'm gonna go start my watch but let me know if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Wreck, I will,” Echo says, and he means it.

Wrecker leaves the bunk room, and Echo gathers up the cards, tucking them in their tin. He keeps the caf stained card out. He lies down, back to the room, facing the wall, and holds the note in front of him. The last words his oldest brother ever gave him blurs in his watery vision.

“I miss you too,” Echo whispers, and silently cries until sleep claims him.

END

Read the prequel, You Promised, here!

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givemequeen · 7 months

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thats all that matters: anakin x reader

request:hi. could you please do a anakin x reader fic where ani comes back from a long mission and they have a little fluffy reunion and they missed each other a lot a/n: ive been waiting for this one! turn it up! (ps. this is acc an extract from a fic ive been working on. hopefully i can turn it into a long fic. lmk if you guys would wanna see that) word count: 437 (rly short)

“Ani?” you called out to the darkness, your voice low and unsure. You were stood under a fluorescent Felucian fern; its large size provided you some cover from any wandering Jedi. Not that you needed it; hardly anyone visited the Temple’s gardens on the top floor, and ever since the start of the Clone Wars, fewer and fewer Jedi came to visit the mystical gardens.

“Yeah, its me.” you could tell he was smiling even before he stepped around a cluster of mushrooms you were pretty sure originate from Endor, you could hear his smile in his voice.

As soon as you saw him, you broke into a run and leaped into his open arms, almost toppling him over. In that moment, you completely forgot you were in the Jedi temple, it was just you and him. No sneaking around, no secrecy, just your love for each other.

He pressed his face against your shoulder and tightly hugged you, his arms wrapped around your torso. His familiar scent enveloped you like a warm hug as you nestled your face in the crook of his neck.

"I missed you so much, Ani," you said, pulling away slightly to get a good look at his face. He kept his arms around you, pressing your bodies together, and his face broke into a warm smile, the type of smile that could light up an entire room and was extremely contagious.

“I missed you more, my love.” he leaned in to kiss you; he tasted nice.

“You had been gone for so long.” you pouted. “And we couldn’t even talk!”

Anakin’s latest mission had been hard on you both. He had been sent to Kessel on a no-comms mission to gather intel on some Separatist plot. But that didn’t matter anymore, all that mattered was now. His arms around you, his lips against yours. You didn’t know how you were going to say goodbye to him again.

“I’m sorry.” he always apologised, even though it wasn’t his fault. “You know how things are…” he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear and smiled down at you. “But let's forget about that, okay?”

You nodded and, standing on your tip-toes, gave him a quick kiss. You could feel that gorgeous smile of his against your own as you kissed.

Anakin pulled you tight against him once more, desperate to feel you close to him. You could feel the way his heart rapidly beat against your chest. His warmth was nearly overwhelming, but not quite.

"We're here now, together." he kissed the top of your head. "And thats all that matters."

#anakin #anakin x reader #anakin fluff #anakin x reader fluff #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker fluff #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x jedi!reader #anakin x jedi!reader #star wars fluff #star wars fic #star wars x reader #anakin being cute #i love anakin so much #anakin request #anakin prompt #i love anakin skywalker #skydady

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magnusbae · 2 months

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Hi! What about "Can you stay with me?" (and if you'd like it my bonus prompt is "drunk") 💗

The initial draft was written while I was quite literally fainting late at night & the second one fully rewritten while I am dazed and out of it. I would say that I was method writing Obi-Wan who is indeed very much drunk in this one, dearest anon. Thank you for the prompt~ 😊💖

+++

Obikin || 4,004w || Drunk Obi-Wan is agonized by the prospect of his freshly knighted Padawan leaving him behind— and more. 😌 Some flavors of gentle lime in this drink, very light, very sweet. 🍋💖

▾▾▾

"Can you stay with me?"

Obi-Wan Kenobi sounds properly pathetic and he knows it. Grasping at Anakin’s Tabards as he is, mind swirling in hazy circles around the notion he was doing his very best to avoid thinking about for the past few months. It is not long now that Anakin would look at his Master and see him for what he really was. Perhaps even today. Inebriated as he is, he makes for a good serving of disillusionment. All Anakin needs to do is look, and see, and then…

It seems inevitable—his Padawan will leave.

Former Padawan. Anakin is no longer his Padawan, and that is the heart of it, isn’t it? The severed braid was the firs step. Them having each a battalion of their own, stationed light years away from each other with only the occasional joint mission, a second. The third and final step would be for Anakin to finally open his eyes and look, and see.

It won’t be hard to unveil the carefully crafted Jedi Master facade Obi-Wan had cultivated for the past decade. No, it won’t be hard at all. If Anakin were to stop glorifying him, stop shaping him to be what ever form of idol he had needed for while growing up, if only he were to take an unbiased look at him…

There will no longer be, Kenobi and Skywalker.

For the naked truth was, Anakin had outgrown him, had become more powerful and capable than his Master. There’s little left that Obi-Wan could still offer, still teach. He should be proud. The only one still refusing to see it, is Anakin himself. Once that revelation comes to pass however, it will be complete. A true break, as befitting the Jedi way. Obi-Wan finds no peace in the thought, no completion nor satisfaction in the successful completion of his Padawan’s training—a symbol of his own Mastery.

Not when it means losing him. Not then.

Given his state of drunkenness, words slurred and feet unsteady, he thinks that it’s worth putting to question whatever or not he was a good Jedi at all, least of all a Master. Try as he might, he finds it hard to ponder further. His choice to look inward is as always an avoidance, an escape. An easy detour from looking outward, from looking at Anakin. Anakin who’s eyes he can feel like a physical touch, boring into his very soul.

Obi-Wan’s avoidance is nearly as strong as Anakin’s natural magnetism. One is counseling him to avoid looking, save himself the pain of witnessing the exact moment in which the realization dawns upon the boy. The second, stronger still, demands his undivided attention on him, demands him to look. Demands him.

Obi-Wan looks up, he meets those eyes, his demise.

Anakin’s eyes widen and he blinks, endless blue clearing as if coming out of some sort of shock.

“Can I—” Anakin splutters “—Obi-Wan, even if the council explicitly ordered me to go save the entire karkin universe just now, I wouldn’t be leaving your side— stars you’ve any idea what you look like right now?

Obi-Wan’s tongue is heavy but he parts his lips to answer, something clever to be sure, he always finds something to say.

“No, never mind.” Anakin cuts in before he could speak. There’s such decisiveness in his tone, such confidence. His former Padawan stands tall, his arms are strong and sure as he handles Obi-Wan closer, making him lean more of his weight against his chest. It’s broad and firm. Obi-Wan should not be noticing those things, should not be aware of those things. It is a further evidence that his Padawan is well and truly grown. Further evidence of his own failing as a Jedi, as a Master, as a…man. Obi-Wan should not be inhaling and smelling home. Should not be leaning closer, itching all over for more, more.

“You’re so wasted that I am surprised you’ve even recognized me at all.” Anakin continues talking, as if the universe is not shifting beneath Obi-Wan’s feet as it is him who finally looks with his gaze unbiased. “The drunken messages though, those you will be seeing tomorrow” there’s dark mirth in that dear voice. “I bet you wanted to send them to— someone else.” Anakin glances at him, eyes narrowed.

Obi-Wan’s offenses at Anakin’s assumption he could ever not recognize him dies over under his gaze, dark and rich, his eyes are captivating. Before Anakin, he did not know that a blue can hold such multitudes. Both the clear morning sky, and the moon lit sky. Beautiful. They loosens his tongue as well as any truth serum would. That or the bottle he had finished on his own finally soaked through.

“I will always—” His voice comes out so thick that he coughs, starting Anakin from his dark contemplations, whichever those might be. His eyebrows furrow and he quickly snatches a cup of something clear off of a passing robo-waitress’s tray. Irritated with the distraction, Obi-Wan accepts it and drinks if only to make way for the words to follow. He will not let it go. Not now that he’d started. “I will always recognize you, Padawan Mine, drugged, beaten, or otherwise preoccupied— I will always—” “Drugged?!” Anakin cuts in again, arms tightening around Obi-Wan and strangling the annoyed huff at being cut again “You did not mention anything about being drugged, what the kark’ Obi-Wan?!”

Obi-Wan’s mouth is dry, similar to how being drugged would feel. His mind swims and all he sees is Anakin. There’s warmth in his chest, there’s a burn in his gut, there’s a tug in his—

“It’s hard to tell” he says sheepishly, embarrassed, eyes straying away from Anakin’s strong jaw and up, up to the lights on the ceiling. He should not be thinking of how Anakin’s proximity is enough to replicate a strong drug. How out of orbit he feels around him as of late. “They all start the same, so…”

Anakin is hardly listening. Instead he is surveying the club with a look of fury that is bordering on homicidal, freeing one hand to rest it on his lightsaber. There’s the distinct feeling of Anakin stretching his force signature out, covering the room, no doubt attempting to locate anyone within their proximity who might have dared drug his former Master. Oh if only he knew that he was the culprit all along.

Obi-Wan snorts, finding an odd sense of humor in it.

Anakin’s gaze darts back to him, sharp and accusing. He looks so handsome under the colorful, dim lights. He looks so…

“Ah-nakin.” Obi-Wan sighs out and shuts his eyes lest his spinning head forces him to sober up in the most un-jedi manner.

“Stay with me,” the request comes so easy, what was it that he was so afraid of? It’s so easy, too easy. Frighteningly so, to reach and touch Anakin’s forearm. There’s skin beneath his touch, warm and human, tense muscles beneath. “Ah” Obi-Wan sighs out in realization. Anakin had rolled the sleeves, so very unofficial for a Jedi and yet so very Anakin of him.

Master Windu would have hated it. It wouldn’t surprise Obi-Wan if this was exact reason why Anakin did it to begin with, after all, he was most adept to handling heat and was not bothered by it even while all else were. Obi-Wan really should have reprimanded the boy more often, should have stopped Anakin from executing all those harmless little vendettas of his while growing up.

If only he did not find them to be so endearing, so amusing. If only he was a better Master, a proper Master. He would have.

His brain is foggy and he had already forgotten what was it it that he had hoped to achieve by touching Anakin, only that his fingers are circling his wrist and touching the spot at which he can feel his life pulsing. What a terrible habit it is, being intoxicated while negotiating. You should only ever drink enough to appear drunk, never more. How is he to get what he wants, when he has no ideas what it was?

Obi-Wan’s eyelids are heavy when he tries to blink them open and focus on Anakin. There’s the signature frown, so familiar Obi-Wan can’t help but smile. Anakin is chewing his lips, a compulsion he had never managed to rid himself of. He looks torn between the need to locate and deal with the ‘enemy’, and…. Obi-Wan.

The way Anakin looks, that should not be reminiscent of the targets Obi-Wan opts for charm as the main form of negotiation with. Should not stir the excitement of a hunt, of a game to be won. Obi-Wan should not use his looks to achieve his goals, he should not use them to get what he wants, he should be a better man than that.

Obi-wan is not a better man.

Licking his own dry lips, he let’s go off of Anakin’s wrist and reaches for Anakin’s cheeks. There’s a tremble in the touch, his, Anakin’s? He is not certain.

“Dear One, you can chase your enemies tomorrow.” He speaks in a hushed murmur, he hopes he sounds soft and alluring “Tonight, will you guard this drunk Master of yours?” he looks up, through his lashes, breathing shallowly, feeling hot, hot, hot all over.

Anakin let’s go off of the lightsaber. It’s an answer enough to what he had picked. It still is deeply gratifying to feel the boy’s hand cover his own, guide it until he wraps his arm around Anakin’s shoulders. It’s an awkward angle, with Anakin being taller than he— he cares very little for it when Anakin wraps an arm around his waist.

“Let’s go.” He is tight lipped and determined, guiding Obi-Wan out and into a speeder that is parked not far off. If Obi-Wan was even slightly more aware, he’d realize just how much attention the pair of them had draw, how all of the eyes had followed them out. Sometimes he forgets, how famous they had become during this accursed war. Sometimes, he is glad to not remember.

Anakin is terribly efficient at getting them to the Temple. One blink of an eye they’re flying through the busy highways of Coruscant, the next he is tossed unceremoniously onto a bed that feels and smells familiar. His bed.

They’re in his quarters. Their quarters until very recently. He is breathing harder and he does not dare to think of why. If he does not think, it does not exist. He is self aware enough only to feel how disheveled his robes feel on his body, how messy his hair is, how hot his skin feels all over. He is a mess.

“Dear one?” he questions. He refuses to acknowledge how his own tone drops, refuses to admit he is rolling his vowels in a way he knows thickens his accent in the most attractive of ways. He doesn’t know why he is flirting with Anakin Skywalker when the boy is barely out of his knighthood and is Anakin. His Anakin, his Anakin on whom he just looked in a way he really should not be looking at, through his eyelashes, with a heavy, wanting gaze.

The redness of Anakin’s cheeks is evidence enough that he hears and understands the situation well enough. That he is very much aware of what his Master is doing. That he is… perhaps affected.

Obi-Wan swallows, trying to push himself up to his elbows. He needs to sober up, he must tell him that he is merely jesting, that it is all a little tease, a little laugh, nothing more, just….

Anakin cuts him to it. Before he can excuse, or joke, or explain.

“Not while you’re drunk.” Anakin bites, sounding frustrated, lips swollen red from biting. Obi-Wan startles, surprised.

What did Anakin just say? Imply?

Blatantly threw straight into his face, more like.

Yes, but not while he is drunk.

Absurdly, a swell of pride fills his chest to the brim. Anakin’s manners and chivalry surprises him, pleases him. He had raised him well after all, he did not fail him, at least not in this.

His pleasure must bleed into the Force as Anakin regards him with a dark, baffled look. It’s so dark, most would find it intimidating, but for Obi-Wan it’s… dear. He can see the gentleness in that look, the care. There’s warmth in the force when Anakin insist on tucking him in, fingers methodical in the short, careful gestures. Tucking him in as if he was a child. Him, his Master. Former.

Obi-Wan was tucked in only once in his lifetime, at least as far as he can remember. His first night in the Jedi Temple. So tense he was, so out of his depth, that the he was taken pity of, tucked in with a quiet promise of everything making sense soon. It helped.

It had never happen again.

“Ahnakin.” he tries to protest, tries to pull a face of offended indigence. It’s hard to do when he is practically shining within the force. A single look from his apprentice is enough to quiet him down.

“Master.” Anakin replies, and there’s a little eyeroll there. His cheeks are still flushed but he seems as determined as Obi-Wan to not address the Bantha in the room. “You really should be more careful” he lectures him in a way Obi-Wan can distinctly remember doing a few years back, when Anakin had gotten drunk for the first time.

He leaves then, without a word. Obi-Wan’s throat closes and there’s a pang of pain in his heart. No this. He remembers now. Him. Leaving. That was the whole reason, that was why—

“Master?” Anakin sounds concerned, a glass of water and a container of what looks to be painkillers in his hands. “Are you sick?” a few strides and he is by Obi-Wan’s bed again, placing he glass and container at the bedside table. He looks well and truly worried.

Unthinking, Obi-Wan sits up. So sudden that he does feel sick from the motion. He ignores it. He reaches for Anakin’s face with both hands, cupping his cheeks with a grip that is too strong, too desperate. A Jedi should not hold onto things with such fervor.

All it takes for him to lean is to Anakin, is to stop resisting if only for a moment. Anakin’s pull was always there, stronger and stronger until it had become a daily challenge to ignore it, to pretend he does not feel it. All it takes is to stop resisting and his lips find Anakin’s, pressing against that plush softness, inhaling his exhale and finally, finally feeling anchored, inside the orbit he was always meant to circle.

He tilts his chin, leans in, knowing his beard will scratch pleasantly against the smooth jaw, kisses in deeper—

“Mahster—!” Anakin gasps into the kiss, a pang of shock and uncertainty clouding the force around them, sipping through the open nerves of their broken bond. He does not want to take advantage of his Master, does not want him to end up hating him, does not want him to wake up and be disgusted, appalled— but he wants, he wants so badly.

“Oh, Anakin.” Obi-Wan breathes out, unsure if it’s endearment of relief that fills him up with warmth, with lightness. One thing he is certain of, no one had ever been, or will be, as sweet, as kind, as dear as Anakin is to him. “I could never hate him.” There’s a drunken lisp to his voice, he needs a moment to correct himself. “You.” He manages, meeting Anakin’s eyes and not blinking, not wanting to miss a single moment. Wanting to see the exact moment in which Anakin realizes he is serious, that he is the most honest he’s been in years.

Anakin seems to be realizing it too, his eyes widening and cheeks coloring a deeper red than before, he bites his lip.

“I might be…” Obi-Wan’s gaze drops to Anakin’s lips and he thinks about… “intoxicated…” he forces himself to look up, away from temptation, away from sin. “Drugged, possibly.” He is still not fully certain if he is, or it truly is just Anakin with a touch of alcohol. “But I am very much aware that…” he smiles before completing the sentence, it widens so much further with the words to come “…my Padawan simply cannot take advantage of his Master…” there’s really no need to be using this many terms of belonging, especially when they are outdated and irrelevant, but he just cannot… “On the contrary, I am the one who should be deeply ashamed for…mnnn-”

Anakin’s lips quiet him up, he was never a patient listener, never could hear his Master finish a thought. This is the most effective he had ever been at cutting Obi-Wan’s line of thought, by far. He kisses him in a way Obi-Wan would have never guessed him capable of— it’s soft, sweet, patient. A tender thing, careful, loving. Obi-Wan gasps. Thinking, dazedly of how Anakin will grow to be an amazing lover, so attentive, a beast holding back his fangs in favor of gentle lips…

The thought sets a burning coil of arousal deep in Obi-Wan’s gut.

Not good. Beyond not good. He should….

The thought is present and yet he licks at Anakin’s lips, asking for permission. He is granted one without resistance, without hesitance. Anakin’s lips part and he can taste him and oh, oh. Obi-Wan groans, muscles tensing as he shifts to sit straighter, moving a hand to Anakin’s nape and pulling him closer.

He nearly chokes when the boy sucks on his tongue, arousal shocking him into near soberness.

“Anakin…” he knows, there’s not enough alcohol in the universe to convince him that this is not going too far, he knows and yet…

He kisses Anakin again, a little hungrier, a little more wanting.

He must stop this madness. To think that he had started it, to think that he had taken advantage of his trusting, sweet—

“No, Master.” Anakin answers, and Obi-Wan wonders just how much of his shields is truly left if his thoughts can be read so easily, so plainly. “You’ve asked me to stay, and I will stay.” That assuredness is back, firm and leaving no space for argument. This is the same man who leads men on a battlefield, who commands, who leads. Obi-Wan finds it impossibly, undeniably, devastatingly attractive.

“You will sleep.” Anakin decides then, tearing his eyes away from Obi-Wan long enough to gesture at the lights, turning them off with the force. “And I will stay with you.” His eyes land back to Obi-Wan, dark mirth dancing in what Obi-Wan can still see of him. “To keep you safe, Master.” He is teasing him, the little devil.

“How will it even…” Obi-Wan doesn’t want to mention how narrow the bed really is, Anakin would know, with his constant complaints about how leg room and…

“Don’t worry about that.” Anakin answers, confidence so cocky, so boyish that Obi-Wan huffs a surprised laughter, breaking into giggling when Anakin practically falls on top of him. They struggle like that, laughter mixing, limbs tangling, hair in a mouth and fingers against sides— Anakin captures him then, they’re on their sides, Anakin’s back is firm as he pulls Obi-Wan all the way to himself, forming….

“Absolutely not!” Obi-Wan’s voice raises and breaks a little, attempting to wriggle out of the trap he inadvertently fell into. There’s still some pride life in him. He will not permit this Jedi Knight, his former Padawan no less, big spoon him, 16 years his senior and former Master. Force be his witness, he will not allow it.

Anakin makes a suffering, exasperated exhale when Obi-Wan manages to slip out of his grip— only to be yanked back by the force. All he manages is a choked gasp of protest before the air is knocked out of him, his back hitting a firm chest a little too hard. There’s a vindictive sort of satisfaction in hearing Anakin chokes out a surprised exhale too, clearly, he did not account for the impact being this strong.

“Karkin’ hell…” he hears the boy muttering and snorts out, laughing even while Anakin wraps his mechno-arm around him, pulling him back into the not-as-offensive as before little spoon position. Fine, he thinks. He’ll allow it, just for this one night….

His eyes close and he shudders when Anakin’s nose press against his nape, he can feel the slow, deep inhale— can feel the content exhale that follows.

“Finally.” Anakin breathes out, as if he was waiting for this moment longer than the few minutes just now. Like he needed it, himself. Like it was not Obi-Wan, pathetic and alone, messaging his former Padawan while drunk beyond reason that led him here, but his own needs, own wants. Like he needed this too, him. Like he needs him. Obi-Wan.

“Oh Force…” Obi-Wan calls upon it without realizing, without meaning it. Only the force can stand witness to this moment, judge it, measure it. Guide him, tell him right from wrong. “Force.” His voice trembles with it, realizing for the first time that Anakin does see him, in truth, does and still…

“It’s fine with it.” Anakin remarks, nonchalant, amusement coloring the timbre of his voice. “You don’t have to shout at her, I don’t think she like it very much” Anakin refers to the Force differently every time, Obi-Wan suspects he does it simply for the joy of throwing off the younglings.

It unsettles Obi-Wan as well, he will not admit that much, though. Anakin’s connection with the force was always stronger, always different than anyone else’s. If he’s saying that the Force is not finding this offensive…. Obi-Wan will trust him. Anakin enjoys messing around at times, stretching the truth about how the Force works, but he’d never lie about this, not to him.

Obi-Wan’s body relaxes so completely that he practically sags into Anakin, relief, so much relief. It feels…. Good. There’s rightness to it that even without the Force humming pleasantly in his ears, he’d recognize. Like sharing a sleeping cot in the war zones, minus the blood and gore and pain… it feels secure, it feels…good….

He feels himself being lulled to what he suspects will be a long and restful sleep. Such a luxury as of late. “Mnh..” He jolts a little when a hand moves across his side, resting at his hip bone and then back up to his side. He should not permit Anakin this much leeway with him and yet…. He likes it… oh he likes it.

So he doesn’t comment it, allowing him to continue, to stroke him and care for him, and hold him. He is not leaving.

Sleep comes ease, as easy as an inhale. One moment he is aware of all that surrounds him, the scent and warmth, the weight and touch. The next he is sinking into the open embrace of rest. Distantly, he feels the touch of a Force Signature he knows as well as his own. It is the only half of it, after all. Accepting it, is as easy as breathing too.

There’s a distant shift, even in sleep he can feel the bond snapping back into place, like moons falling into a familiar route, circling a singular sun. Maybe it was not Anakin who was the sun around which Obi-wan was revolving all along, but their shared….

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fanfic-obsessed · 9 months

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We thought you knew

So this idea is both undeniably crack, and an AU of the Rako Hardeen arc.

The first thing to be aware of is that not a single member of the Jedi council is taking the threat against the Chancellor seriously. The analysts of the Jedi Shadows, the intelligence portion of the Jedi, all agree. The only way that this attack against the Chancellor is actually a viable threat is if the Chancellor is a Sith, and the mastermind behind the attempt. And nobody believes that the Chancellor is a Sith.

The council does decide to fake Obi Wan’s death to send him under cover, but it is only because the Chancellor seemed so proud to be contributing a plan. However they do not change Obi Wan’s face, they do not change his voice, they do not even make him give up the Jedi robes. The only attempt to change his appearance is that his hair and his beard were shaved.

They do not tell anyone that they are faking his death because they all thought it would be exceedingly obvious. Like the entire council thought that there was no way that Cad Bane or anyone else would fall for this, so they figured Obi Wan would be brought to the jail and then have to beat up a room full of criminals when he failed to convince them he was Rako Hardeen. Then they could all go back to figuring out how to win a war and try to get Obi Wan to take an actual vacation.

Note: To be fair, it was exceedingly obvious to 99% of the people who knew Obi Wan. Unfortunately Anakin fell into the 1%. So did the mercenaries Obi Wan needed to break out of prison with, and seemingly Count Dooku (Dooku knew who was there the whole time, but was under orders from Palpatine that this plan had to work). Ahsoka and the clones on the other hand, realized even before the funeral-due in part to the extended death scene that happened after Obi Wan was shot that had been written and directed by Mace Windu.

So Anakin is hunting down Obi Wan, in the guise of Hardeen, full of rage and grief. He is being followed at a distance by a troop of clones and Ahsoka. No one realizes until his first earnest attempt at murdering Hardeen that he is not acting. Every attempt to tell him what is going on is rebuffed in the most hilarious way possible. At one point he is fighting ‘Hardeen’ and first Ahsoka, then Cody, then Rex, then an odd assortment of other clones, then Padme (and inexplicably Yoda, who was not even on that planet at the time), each scream at him that ‘Hardeen’ is really Obi Wan, with Obi Wan agreeing each time, getting progressively more out of breath. Anakin cries dramatically to the heavens that Hardeen is not Obi Wan, he killed Obi Wan and everyone else is in denial.

Obi Wan is following through the rough plan of the Chancellors, which was never polished into an ACTUAL plan, because no one thought it would get this far. There is also no good way to tell the enemy that you are undercover, but never thought it would get this far. Also the surreal suspicion that occurs because ‘this should not have worked and this should not be happening’. Both Dooku and Obi Wan spend a fair amount of time pretending this undercover thing worked and the Dooku has not called him Obi Wan the times while not around the mercenaries.

In the end Obi Wan was there to save the Chancellor, though that this attack happened at all is what clued the Jedi in to the Chancellor being the Sith. At some point Anakin pouts/is angry that Obi Wan didn’t tell Anakin that Obi Wan was Hardeen. Padme takes a moment to slap Anakin upside the head, because literally everyone told him that Obi Wan was Hardeen.

#star wars #star wars the clone wars #fanfiction prompt #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #star wars au #bamf obi wan #crack fic #rako hardeen arc

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hanasnx · 6 months

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I can't stop thinking about Darth Vader, who has you sitting on his knee, sometimes bouncing it to tease you. His fingers with his leather glove, rubbing against your pussy, under your skirt. All this while he acts as if nothing happened, and gives orders to his men <3

MINORS DNI 18+

“Can you… just.. pay attention to me?” you ask, timidly exasperated as your hands physically search DARTH VADER's armor for purchase. Anything you can grab hold of that'll help you engage him. It's like he's placed you here knowing you're needy, while also keeping what you most desire just out of reach. As you're seated on his leg, you raise your neck from your slump in an attempt to catch his eye through his expressionless visor.

"I'm occupied, my pet." Every word is precisely enunciated, his voice a deep rumble that sends chills down your spine. His glove traverses the surface of a data-pad, scrolling through filed information.

"I don't like being ignored." you pout. With a single bounce of his leg, you emit a yelp, bracing your palms on his thigh to re-balance.

"Is that so?" he replies, disengaged but amused. "Come here, my star. Come." A croon that's heeded, rearranging to tuck your back under his arm while it wraps around. It's huge on you, and you swallow, watching it with interest as it slides down to cup your sex through your clothes. Another noise releases from your lips, and he tsks. "My, we are insatiable today, aren't we?"

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whiskygoldwings · 21 days

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So, for the kisses, if you're willing to bring Obi-Wan into the kiss-a-thon, Obi-Wan/Fox with 40. Otherwise, Fox/Cody with 35. 💚

As your fics are the reason I will merrily go down with the Good Ship Obi/Fox, I will absolutely do my best to write them for you!

40 - An impulsive kiss

----

Cody's General is stunning, and for the first time in his (admittedly fairly short) life, Fox finds himself struggling for words.

He'd been reluctant to agree to attend Cody's house-warming party when he'd learned there'd be nat-borns there as well as clones, but Cody had turned that "I'm not mad, I'm just disappointed" frown on him and Fox had sighed. Cody, knowing full well what that sigh meant, had smirked and simply told him to bring the other Corrie Commanders.

They were all still adjusting, after the War, but Cody had thrown himself into civilian life with all his usual determination and unrelenting perfection. The Republic had offered civilian housing to members of the GAR, and Cody had been one of the first to sign up (Fox, notably, still hadn't almost a year later and when the first apartments were finally ready. Thorn's glare gets deeper every time they discuss it). Apparently, General Kenobi had been delighted to help Cody in getting settled in and had talked about the nat-born tradition of a house-warming party with fondness.

And Cody, unwilling to get anything less than a perfect grade, had leapt upon the idea and arranged it with military precision.

Fox turning up 30 minutes late had been met with a raised eyebrow and rolled eyes, but Cody had let him in still.

Fox had been slightly hoping he wouldn't.

So now he was here, wearing his dress uniform trousers and a shirt in Corrie red. He'd intended to just wear his full dress uniform, but someone (of course it's Thorn, but Fox knows he'll never be able to prove it) had snuck into his clothes locker and removed all the tops, replacing them with this one. He'd almost closed the locker and gone to his office to complete datawork topless instead of succumb to their mischief, but Cody's disappointment was a fierce, ruthless thing.

So Fox had put on the shirt.

He would never admit that he kind of liked the way it contrasted with the grey at his temples. Thorn was far too smug as it was.

He might have to rethink that though, he thinks hazily, as the copper-haired Generals eyes slip to the small glimpse of chest-hair at the open collar.

Those blue eyes fly back up to his, and a faint flush warms the skin of the man's cheeks as he realises Fox caught him. He doesn't hide from the moment though, simply smiling with pink lips and tilting his head slightly, letting those coppery strands fall over his face as his eyes crinkle and gleam at Fox...

And maybe Fox hasn't had enough caf today, or maybe Thorn laced the red shirt with something.

Maybe he just really wants to be able to touch someone that beautiful and feel them touch him back.

But suddenly he's leaning forward, and pressing his lips to the surprised "Oh!" of General Kenobi's mouth in a kiss so impulsive, Fox isn't really sure he had any choice in his body's movement.

He jerks back with wide-eyes, meeting the General's own, and stammers out some kind of mangled apology before turning to run -

Only for a firm hand to catch his wrist.

Fox awkwardly turns back, trying to wrangle the nausea in his throat back under control, desperately not looking at the beautiful man in front of him and asks, in as formal a tone as he can manage, "General?"

The man himself laughs, rich and full and Fox can't help but look at him. His cheeks are round and dimpled with how wide his smile is, and there's something delighted in his eyes.

"I rather think you should call me Obi-Wan."

----

I hope this is okay!

You can find the kiss prompts here if you'd like to request a ship and a kiss!

#commander fox #marshal commander fox #obi wan kenobi #fox/Obi #Obi/Fox #Obi-wan/Fox #star wars the clone wars #fanfic #my fic #kiss prompts

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imabeautifulbutterfly · 3 months

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Mimi ❤️!! Congratulations on hitting 450 followers 🥳!!

If you'd like, could I suggest Commander Wolffe and the prompts: 18 and/or 35?

😘

Awww @ulchabhangorm thank you, love!

I realized on my previous post, I didn't put a warning. Oops. Anyway, I'll include a warning this time.

Enjoy.

Just Breathe

Warnings: anxiety, slight panic attack, mentions of death, broken finger, surgeries, medical procedure, kissing.

Main Master List | Star Wars Fic Roulette

You took a deep breath, needing to calm down your mind. There’d been just too many injuries, too many bloody soldiers, too many you couldn’t save. It was just all too much. You just needed peace and quiet. Needed to remember you were more than just someone who stood by and watched soldiers die.

Wolffe was looking for you, he knew in battles like this, you always suffered the most. You always made sure everyone else took the time to recoup, while you ploughed through the difficult carnage. He smiled when he saw you standing outside of the camp looking up to the stars, he loved the way the moonlight illuminated your face, your bright eyes that were full of sadness pulled on his heart strings.

“You shouldn’t be out here by yourself.”

It was the only reprimand he would give you on a day like this, he walked up behind you, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you in close to his chest.

“I know. I just … I just needed to breathe.”

He rested his lips on the side of your head, pressing a gentle kiss, “Hmmm, and did you?”

You swallowed the anxiety, fighting back the tears, “I think so…”

“Doesn’t sound like it”

A shuddering breath escaped your lips; you hated how much Wolffe really knew you, how much you tried to be strong. You turned in his arms and held him close, burying your face in the crook of his arm and shoulder, wanting to escape from the reality that was this world.

“It’s okay, cyar’ika. I got you.”

You simply nodded, letting your tears escape, and finally finding the comfort you had been so longing for, as you felt Wolffe bury his face in your hair, his breath on your neck, and his hand rubbing your back up and down.

You shifted when you realized he kept his left hand elevated and away from you. You wiped your tears as you looked into his warm eyes that would always be your home.

“Wolffe, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head, ignoring the pain in his hand. He looked at his cyar’ika’s face which told him you didn’t believe him. He let out a sigh, he didn’t want you to be worried about him, “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it, cyar’ika.”

“Now, I know there’s something wrong,” you pulled back and looked at him, holding out your hand for him, “Show me.”

“Cyar’ika, let’s worry about you. I can wait.”

“I’ll keep standing here, and not saying anything until you show me your hand.”

“Well, I can play that game too, cyar’ika.”

You nodded, and stood in front of him, hand raised, keeping your eyes locked on his, with an unimpressed face. You stood there staring at each other for a good ten minutes before finally he caved, “Alright, alright. Here.” He placed his left hand in yours, his glove was off, his middle finger bent at an odd angle.

“Wolffe, your finger is broken!”

“Like I said, not a big deal.”

“I swear…” you started mumbling under your breath as you looked at his finger, “you need to thank the force, you didn’t have a pinched nerve or something. Otherwise, we would’ve had to amputate this, you do realize that!”

“As I previously stated, not a big deal” he smirked as he looked at you. He knew how much it drove you crazy, when he downgraded an injury, simply because he wanted to see how angry you got. Plus, it had the added benefit of making you stop thinking about your anxiety.

“Come with me,” you took his other hand in yours, interweaving your fingers. Shaking your head as you walked back to the med tent. Forcing him to sit down, as you tried so hard not to laugh at his best, ‘What did I do?’ face. You grabbed your supplies, pulling over a cargo crate so you could sit on it.

“Just so you know, this is going to hurt, okay?"

“You always say that, but how can it hurt when I’m looking at the most beautiful face in the galaxy.”

You smirked as he tried to distract you, “Keep it up.” You challenged him, as you looked in his eyes and held on to his finger.

“What, you think, you can make me cry?”

“I don’t think. I know.”

“Not possible, my most beautiful cyar’ika. Your eyes are … AHHH! Son of a nerf herder!”

You laughed as you straightened out his finger and braced it, wrapping the splint around his finger. “You’ll have to keep this on for three to four weeks, and no strenuous activity for two weeks after.”

“Doesn’t really work on a battlefield, cyar’ika.”

“Hence the splint.” You smiled as you leaned forward pressing a kiss to his lips, ��Better?”

“Mmm, I think I need a little more” he threaded his good fingers through your hair and pressed your lips to his again.

Main Master List | Star Wars Fic Roulette

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