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WHAAAARGHHhhh.

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Someone please sprinkle some magic writing dust on me I really need that reverse bang fic to happen, and I’m just so… not there.

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a pause from my daredevil fixation to come here and say,, he's absolutely beautiful 🦋💙

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I drew this handsome old man for the first time.. he cute

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The Pride and Prejudice Hand Flex Scene™ but it’s Them

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Obikin Underground Racing AU

Supporting Cast 2: Mace Windu

[Follow-up to this AU] [AO3 version]

Mace Windu, a senior partner whose professionalism was as immaculate as his suits, noticed things. And lately, he’d noticed the… rapport between Kenobi, one of the firm's finest, and his new intern. It was a familiar pattern, a potential liability he'd seen play out before. A partner failing to be immune to the charms of the young and beautiful was a tiresome, predictable problem.

So one night, Mace decided to confirm his suspicions. He left his perfectly appropriate city sedan in the garage and took out the Brabus G-Wagon—a monstrous, blacked-out guilty pleasure no one at the firm associated with him. It was the perfect vehicle for off-the-books surveillance.

He fully expected Kenobi's BMW to lead him to a discreet hotel or a quiet apartment. A sordid, but manageable, situation. What he did not expect, as he rolled his ostentatious tank into a part of town he would normally never be seen in, was the deafening sound of roaring engines.

He didn't expect to find illegal street racing.

Mace parked the Brabus a safe distance away, its engine rumble dying into an unnerving silence. He stepped out, the sharp lines of his suit a stark contrast to the grimy surroundings. He found a vantage point in the deep shadows cast by an unlit Zumiez storefront and watched as Kenobi's M3 pulled up to a makeshift starting line. Then he saw the intern's GTR. And he understood he was right about something being between them, but so catastrophically wrong about what it was. All he could think, watching two officers of the court prepare to flagrantly break the law, was:

"They're lawyers, for fuck's sake. And this is all so... lawless."

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Obi-wan stared at the rumpled sheets on the bed. His hand twitched to grab them up and bring them over to the laundry, but he couldn't make himself do it. It felt wrong to do it. Like shouting in the Fountains or fighting in the Halls of Healing. Wrong.

He hated this.

Anakin left a few days ago. Four and a half days ago, to be precise. But, as always, he kept on leaving.

He'd left the first time that morning, wearing the dark armor that formed part of the role he played in order to convince the Sith he was one of them. He left with a kiss, hands tangled in Obi-wan's hair, lop-sided grin that didn't reach his eyes. And he left with the same words he'd said a dozen times before.

"We're so close to winning. Just a few more months, maybe a year."

And Obi-wan believed him, because to do otherwise was to invite a kind of dispair he had no defense against.

He left again later that day, when Obi-wan took a shower and let the water wash away any lingering trace of him. He stood there a long time, eyes closed in the spray, body instinctively turned to the side to let Anakin reach for the sponge.

The third time he left was when Obi-wan managed to drag himself out of bed the next morning and realized he hadn't washed the mugs they'd used for tea. He stared at Anakin's there in the sink, the little ring of dried leaves in the bottom of the porcelain, and wondered if the rim would still be warm where his lips touched it.

The fourth time he left was when Obi-wan swept the dust from in front of the window where he'd crept in. His boots left marks, grey and red and powdery, kicked up from the planet he was forced to spend most of his time. That one wasn't so bad; the idea of erasing any evidence of the Sith planet was satisfying. And anyway Obi-wan much preferred the soft sound of Anakin's bare feet on the floor.

The next time he left was when Obi-wan looked in the mirror the morning of the third day and realized the last mark he'd left on him had faded. He raised trembling fingers to the place where the mark was, the place where it should have been, and pressed down. He imagined that it was still there, hidden under his fingertips. He wondered how much force would be needed to make it permanent.

And now, this.

The sheets didn't smell like him anymore, no matter how Obi-wan burrowed his face into them. No matter how Obi-wan was careful not to touch the pillow he'd used which left the slight imprint of the weight of his head. No matter how Obi-wan kept to his side of the bed, turned away so that he could pretend he was behind him.

With a shaky breath, he grasped one corner of the sheets and pulled.

(There is no ending to this. It is what it is.)

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How about Obi-Wan tossing Anakin over his shoulder ‘cause he’s being a brat 🤭

He is a brat. I imagine this happens often.

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Obikin Underground Racing AU

The Second First Meeting

[Follow-up to this AU] [AO3 version]

The Monday morning after the race was a return to the real world. For Obi-Wan, it meant a day of depositions. For Anakin, it was the first day of the internship that would define his career.

They were all gathered in the main conference room—the hopeful interns and the seasoned partners. The air was thick with professional ambition. When the managing partner began announcing the pairings, a cruel twist of fate sealed their destinies. Of all the possible combinations, it had to be them.

The moment their eyes met across the polished mahogany table, the room fell away. On Obi-Wan's face, a mask of sheer professional horror—the ultimate risk manager realizing he was the firm's biggest liability. On Anakin's, a flicker of shock that quickly sharpened into the dawning glint of absolute leverage.

The subsequent meeting in Obi-Wan's private office was brutally efficient. His demand was simple: absolute discretion. His life on the track could never intersect with his professional one.

Anakin, being the lil’ shit that he was, saw his opening and took it. He would keep the secret. In return, at the conclusion of his internship, he would receive a recommendation so flawless it would guarantee him a head start on a brilliant career.

They didn't shake on it. It was a deal forged in silence and sealed with the unspoken threat of mutually assured destruction. So now they're locked in a fragile truce: rivals by night, and co-conspirators by day, with Anakin knowing full well that the man he's going to beat on Saturday night is the same one who critiques his legal briefs on Monday morning.

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Art request! Obi-Wan falling asleep on Anakin 😴

The generals are sleeping 💤