#and obi-wan kisses every mechanical finger of his hand before bed each night

[tennessoui]

would you ever do a hunger games au? like anakin and obi-wan in the arena and doing a katniss and peeta thing where they both survive? anakin maybe killing the competitors so obi-wan wouldn't have to? (just thinking that child killing is in character for him) anyway no pressure or anything I just haven't stopped thinking about a hunger games au of obikin and. I thought maybe you could do something with it!

i need you to know i shamefully snorted at the child murder thing i'm sorry and i'm also sorry this took so long and it's a bit all over the place and doesn't actually get into the Games at all (+ it's been years since I read the books so all inaccuracies should be tastefully ignored pls) this may not be what you asked for tbh but here you go!!

(content warnings: hunger games typical discussion of child murder, but nothing graphic)

(1.7k)

Anakin’s first emotion after his name is called is a strange sense of relief.

Good, he thinks. I’ll get to go with Obi-Wan. He won’t be alone.

He dutifully steps forward out of the crowd towards the stage, where the announcer is waiting next to Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan who is looking at him with an expression of naked devastation.

Anakin tries to convey that it’ll be alright, that it’s fine, that they knew this was a possibility. Sure, it’s Anakin’s last year eligible to be in the Games. Sure his nineteenth birthday is in two weeks, at which point he would become too old to qualify as a child to the Capitol, but what’s done is done.

Obi-Wan will be his mentor, because Obi-Wan has been the mentor for District Four ever since he won his own Games seven years ago when he was sixteen and Anakin was twelve.

That year’s known unofficially as the most boring Games in Panem history, but the Capitol loves how handsome Obi-Wan’s grown to be. So what if he didn’t kill his competitors messily or with a bloodthirsty joy? He’s so polite in his interviews all these years later, and look at those dimples!

It makes Anakin sick, every time Obi-Wan has to leave District Four and travel to the Capitol to be fawned over and stroked and used. His nightmares are always worse the weeks after he gets back, and he never lets Anakin hold him during them.

And it’s even worse during the actual Games, when Obi-Wan is put in charge of two children’s lives only to see them brutally murdered on screen a week later. The cameras always show his reaction when the competitors from District Four die. They must think he cries pretty or something.

Anakin hates the Capitol. He hates them for what they’ve done to Obi-Wan. What they’ve made him into

As he gets close enough to the stage, he notices that Obi-Wan’s hands are shaking slightly.

He doesn’t even listen to the name of the girl being called. She’s not important. She’ll be dead in a few days time. What’s important is Obi-Wan. What’s important is comforting him, is reassuring him. Is coming back to him.

This is the moment when Anakin resolves that these Games will become known as the quickest in history.

---

The girl is understandably sullen and upset on the train. “I should get a different mentor!” she demands. “It’s obvious you’re going to play favorites with him.”

Anakin doesn’t snap back because she’ll be dead in a few days. Though she really shouldn’t use that tone with Obi-Wan.

“I’m not playing favorites,” Obi-Wan insists. “I don’t have favorites.”

“You literally just wiped sauce off his mouth with your finger,” the girl points out. “And then he licked it!”

Anakin smirks at her. Of course Obi-Wan has favorites. Of course Anakin is Obi-Wan’s favorite. It took him years to wear down Obi-Wan until he allowed him this close, and years after that until he finally got to kiss him for the first time, just a few months ago.

If she thinks he’s going to give up any of his Obi-Wan time so she can get her hopes up about not dying in a few days, she’s got another thing coming.

But Obi-Wan shifts away from him and he looks guilty.

If Anakin could get away with killing the other person from his district, he would. But it’d probably make Obi-Wan sad.

“Is whining part of your strategy?” he asks waspishly instead. “I don’t think it’ll make you many allies.”

She has the nerve to look offended.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan chides. Underneath the table, he squeezes his knee.

“Everyone in the district knows about you two,” she glares at him. “You haven’t exactly kept it a secret.”

Anakin hasn’t exactly tried to keep it a secret. The first night Obi-Wan had kissed him, he went straight home and told his mother, his neighbor, his schoolmates, his cat, and his ex-girlfriend.

(No one had been surprised, except maybe the cat.)

“It’s not fair,” she cries. “Who can I talk to to get a different mentor for me?”

“The ethics board,” Anakin smiles, all teeth, settling back into his seat and slinging an arm around Obi-Wan’s shoulders.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan says again, this time more exasperatedly. “Robin, I promise I will be the best mentor you can ask for. It is my wish to see you survive as long as possible in the next few weeks.”

The girl jumps to her feet in outrage. “You can’t even say you want me to win!” she yells. There are tears at the corners of her eyes. If she were a little less annoying, Anakin would feel quite bad for her. Obviously Obi-Wan doesn’t want her to win. Anakin’s right here.

She storms out of the train compartment, her face in her hands. Anakin barely waits for the door to close before he’s slipping into Obi-Wan’s lap and throwing his arms around his neck with a groan. “God, I thought she’d never leave.”

He isn’t pushed away. Obi-Wan must realize they only have a handful of days left to be together before he goes into the arena.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan says wearily, even as his arms encircle his waist.

Anakin presses a kiss to his nose and then another to his cheek. “It’s alright to have favorites, Obi-Wan,” he murmurs. “And she should know there’s no way she’s winning anything. Don’t waste your time.”

“I will do everything I can to make sure she survives as long as possible,” Obi-Wan repeats. “I don’t think I can survive anything else.”

Obi-Wan’s voice sounds shaky, so Anakin presses their lips together. Best not to talk for awhile.

------

“We should discuss strategy,” Obi-Wan says later that night through frantic kisses. “Sponsors, story, training--”

“I have a strategy,” Anakin murmurs back as he moves further down the bed, rucking up his partner’s shirt. “Win.”

----

“You look absolutely radiant,” Anakin tells the girl in an undertone while they’re in line for their interviews. She turns around to glare at him. The designer for their district has gone for the typical fish designs that people always associate with District Four, and they’ve dressed her up in a shimmering iridescent gown that flares at the ends like a fish’s tail.

Anakin’s own outfit is mostly a fishing net draped over one shoulder and a pair of tight pants. The designer, much to Obi-Wan’s embarrassment and Anakin’s satisfaction, had taken one look at his shirtless chest and decided to dress him in as little clothes as possible.

“Weird braid,” is all she says.

Obi-Wan had done it late last night when both of them had tired each other out and Anakin had curled up on his chest. After his Games, Obi-Wan’s hands like to do something. The repetitive motion of braiding and unbraiding Anakin’s hair soothes his demons.

It’s one of the reasons Anakin’s grown it out to his shoulders, much longer than is practical for his district.

Obi-Wan had gone to unbraid it, and Anakin had stopped him. He wanted to keep it. To wear it into the Games.

“Thank you,” he says generously. “I saw your score. 7’s not too bad.”

She sneers at him. “Did you celebrate your 11 with your boyfriend?”

“Oh sorry,” he winces. “Did you hear us? I’m just so bad at biting my tongue when he does this thing with his.”

She scoffs in disgust and turns back around. “I hope he has to watch you die.”

Anakin glares at her back. He knows he can’t kill her himself. But there has to be a way to hurt her and her chances and still have plausible deniability.

When it’s her turn for an interview, she’s vapid and pretty. She laughs and touches the interviewer’s arm.

“I’ve never spent much time in District Four,” the interviewer says jovially. “But tell me, really. Is everyone there as beautiful as the people you keep sending us? I mean. Obi-Wan Kenobi, ladies and gentlemen, am I right?” The audience laughs and hollers. Anakin hates them all. “And now you, Robin, and Anakin Skywalker. Damn!”

Robin--Anakin needs to stop forgetting her name--giggles high in her throat. “It was a very, very enjoyable train ride up,” she says with a stupid wiggle of her eyebrows. “Just this side of too long.”

The audience loses it.

Anakin loses it.

He can’t believe she’s sitting there publicly suggesting that Anakin shares Obi-Wan with anyone. With her. The nerve.

The camera pans to Obi-Wan in the crowd, who looks shocked, embarrassed, and deeply troubled.

Anakin won’t let this stand. He just hopes Obi-Wan forgives him.

The interviewer greets him excitedly when he walks out, and Anakin gives him a sheepish sort of smile.

“Lady killer Skywalker!” the interviewer says. Anakin laughs along with him. “All the girls back home must have been heartbroken to see you leave.”

“But I’ve heard they love watching me go,” he jokes with a charming smile. If that girl--Robin--can do it, he can do it much better. “There’s really only one person for me though,” he murmurs, letting his smile die.

“Oh?” The interviewer asks, leaning forward with interest.

“But sometimes I wonder if they’re only using me for my body,” he says, casting his eyes down. “I love them. Heart and soul, everything I am. But when I told them, they just laughed.”

This is technically true. The first time Anakin had told Obi-Wan that he was in love with him, the older boy had laughed his confession off, saying he was too young to know what he wanted.

“Oh, to be young and in love,” the interviewer sighs theatrically. “So your plan is to win the Games and then win her heart when you get back home?”

Anakin makes himself look sad. Tragically sad. Like he can’t bear to go on.

“They came with me,” he says.

If the audience’s reaction to Robin’s fake confession was huge, its reaction to Anakin’s words is even bigger. Of course they think he’s talking about the girl. That’s exactly what Anakin had wanted. Now he’s the broken-hearted boy and she’s the vapid, self-absorbed bitch. She'll have a hard time finding sponsors now.

It’s very, very hard to hide his smile, a task made exponentially more hard when he sees Obi-Wan bury his face in his hands.

“It’s alright,” Anakin tells the interviewer, without taking his eyes off of Obi-Wan. “I’ll survive.”

[obibabykenobi]

Hiiiii could you do an angst fic? You’re really good at it! It can be anything just heart wrenching angst

i sure can! and thank you for the compliment! i hope you like it!

✍︎︎✍︎︎✍︎︎✍︎︎✍︎︎✍︎︎✍︎︎✍︎︎✍︎︎✍︎︎✍︎︎✍︎︎✍︎︎✍︎︎✍︎︎✍︎︎✍︎︎✍︎︎✍︎︎✍︎︎✍︎︎✍︎︎✍︎︎✍︎︎✍︎︎✍︎︎✍︎︎✍︎︎

————forget what we’re told

𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚋𝚒 𝚠𝚊𝚗 𝚔𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚋𝚒 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝

contains: angst :( and some fluff :) hurts all together

word count: 1,191

summary: Obi had to end things with you but it didn’t last long

taglist: @scarletsoldierrr @stephhopexo

It was painful. Why were you doing this to yourself? He left you, and you still couldn’t get over him. He just waltzed out of your life like the two of you never had something, like you two didn’t have a force bond. You could feel his every emotion, and he’s acting as if there’s no invisible string holding you two together.

You sat across from him in the briefing room. He was giving a report over the mission he had just came from. Hearing his voice, and knowing he’s right there in front of you is making you crumble. However, you had to stray strong as to not give off a vibe that will alert the other Jedi’s. You were able to mask your emotions very well, but no matter how many shields you put up, Obi will always be able to feel.

He wanted to comfort you, to reach out to you and reassure that it’s okay, he wanted to hold you and tell you he will never leave again. Due to unfortunate circumstances, he couldn’t. It was maddening to no end. He hated the bond between you two. He hated feeling your emotions, and he hated knowing he was the cause of it.

Later that night, you were curled up into a ball on your bed. Being so close to him today took a real toll on you. It made your eyes burst into tears, you detonated into an emotional atomic bomb. However, your crying immediately stopped once you heard the door to your chambers open and felt Obi walk inside. He knew the code to your chambers like the back of his hand. You didn’t dare show your face, it was so red and puffy and your head was throbbing with immense pain.

A long silence settled over the two of you as he watched you, you feeling a little intimidated under his eyes. Sometimes a few sniffs here and there would break the silence.

“If you can’t control your emotions around me, don’t even come to the briefings.”

You took in his words. Repeated it in your head over, and over. Your eyebrows furrowed, and now you were furious. He felt it, but he knew this would happen. He was prepared to take the blow. You slowly sat up, still not facing him. You wrapped the blanket around you tight, as if it was a defense mechanism to protect you against anymore harsh words. He was ready to hear the angry lace in your voice, the harsh insults about to come out. Except, it never did. What did come out, was a broken voice.

“What happened, Obi?”

It wasn’t harsh, but the question made him flinch. He was trying so hard to keep his composure.

“You know why, I simply don’t love you any-“

You quickly got up stomped over to him. Your angry face caught him off guard. He hasn’t seen you this angry since the time he was chained onto a pillar in front of a large crowd.

“Bullshit, Obi Wan Kenobi!”

Your voice hung in the air, fresh and new tears threatening to spill. Your nose was flaring and you stared into his eyes until he looked away. He hated seeing you so broken, and it was all because of him. He knew it was a bullshit excuse. He knew you two were bonded together. He doesn’t know why he thought you would believe him. He didn’t want to be here anymore. He doesn’t know why he came. He wasn’t sure if it was to be rude to you, or if he just missed being around you.

“Everything I see reminds me of you, every where I go I hear your name. Every night I dream, it’s of you.”

Your voice was soft, but hoarse from all the crying. You brought your hands up to his face and cupped his cheeks. He was melting at your touch, completely falling apart. God, he missed you so much. Being away from you was hell, it was tiring. You decided to play out a dream for him, one that actually happened before and haunts you every night.

You were lying down beside Obi, legs entangled and arms holding onto each other. The Coruscant thunderstorm was lulling you into a deep slumber, and the soft sounds of Obi’s breathing was contributing. The soft glow of the moon and night lights were plastered on his face. It was nights like these that you never wanted to end. His hands were slowly running through your hair, and you peeked up to look at him. He looked as if he was lost in thought.

“Obi?” You whispered to him. He gave a soft hum, letting you know he was listening. “What are you thinking about?” A soft smile spread his lips, and he tilted his face to look down at you. “Just how much I adore you.” You let out a quiet chuckle with warmth spreading throughout your cheeks. You gave a soft kiss to his bare chest, and he let out a sigh of contentment. He shuffled down a bit so he was face to face with you, and he nuzzled his head into your neck. He breathed you in, addicted to your scent. His arms wrapped around your waist, one hand resting in between your shoulder blades. His fingers slowly traced shapes on your back, and your arms encircled his neck. He gave soft kisses on your shoulder and neck, all the up to your ear.

“I love you.” He said, with a whisper.

Your eyes widened, and your lips parted. You kissed the crown of his head, and whispered back. “I love you too, Obi Wan Kenobi.”

That broke him. It was the first time the two of you have even confessed to each other. He was trying to keep his composure, but now he was mess and he instantly wrapped his arms around your waist and cried into your shoulder. His body was wracking against yours, he molded perfectly into your frame. You wrapped your arms lovingly around him, your hands petting his hair to soothe him. You knew he loved you, he never stopped. Then, he explained everything to you. How the Council knew there was a bond, how they figured out you two were together. How they gave Obi an order to leave you or he will be kicked out of the Order. Of course, he would leave the Order for you, but he couldn’t right now, not while there was a War and the Galaxy needed him.

You forgave him, because you knew he had no intention to hurt you. You led him to your bed, and you two lied there together. He was holding onto you with an iron grip, never wanting to let go. “Can we just lay here, forever?” His voice broke the silence. Your hands rubbed up and down his back, wishing the exact same thing. “Forget what we’re told?” You smiled, your hand coming up to cup his cheek. His leaned into your touch, turning his head a bit to give your palm kiss.

“I would love that.”

(can you tell i was listening to snow patrol while writing this??)

[stardustkenobi]

A Former Confidante

Darth Vader x Reader

Request: @dcrthbaeder “Would u be able to write a one shot with darth vader?? Xx”

Warnings: Angst, canon typical violence, unrequited love, pining

A/N: Hiii everyone! I’m so sorry for the lull in posts— it’s been a crazy few weeks but I’m trying to settle into a routine that will (hopefully) allow me to get on a regular posting schedule. As always, thank you so much for reading!

You had been fairly young when you first met Anakin Skywalker. A few days shy of your fifteenth birthday, in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. A budding Jedi with promise, you and your master had been on your way back to your quarters after a long morning of training.

The eye contact you made lasted no more than a millisecond, but it was enough to be seared into your brain forever. You had heard the whispers amongst your peers- he was the Chosen One, supposedly. Destined to end the Sith, bring about the balance that you all desperately ached for. The war raging with the Separatists had kept you from ever laying eyes on him yourself.

Mentally scolding yourself for the blush that rose to your cheeks when he passed, giving your master a nod and you a smile, you drew in a sharp breath and immediately reminded yourself of why you absolutely could not allow your mind toward that place that continuously got you into trouble with your master. You refused to allow your mind to convince you that you were in love with yet another man at first glance. Not again.

But you couldn’t help yourself as you sat meditating on one of the quieter balconies facing the skyline of the city later that evening, flinching a little when the doors open with a mechanical whoosh.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you, my apologies.” A steady voice came from behind you, followed by quiet footsteps. “Do you mind sharing the space for a little bit?”

You turned, glancing over your shoulder, mouth immediately going dry at the sight of Anakin Skywalker standing just over you. “Not at all.” You whispered, trying to keep your voice even.

A little bit turned to a whole evening as the two of you talked quietly, meditation long forgotten after sitting in silence for less than thirty seconds. He told you stories of adventures he had been on with his own master, how he had received word that he would be serving as a personal guard to Queen Amidala, an old friend of his. He asked why he had never seen you before, how your training was going, question after question that made your heart race a little bit faster with each moment.

It was one conversation, one night. But, again, you were always one to fall easily. It took everything in your power to clear your head to make sure Anakin was none the wiser as you sat next to him, wishing that the two of you had met in some other life time under different circumstances.

Your relationship in the following years was friendly, never actually professional. He became your biggest confidant and you became his, so you thought. You weren’t aware of budding romances, conflicting feelings, the subtle toeing of the line between light and dark on his behalf. All that mattered to you was that you had a friend and he sometimes brushed your hair from your face while you sat in the gardens, eating fruit and making each other laugh.

He told you about Padme just weeks before everything changed and your world came crashing down. Your time together had been dwindling over the past few months, what with you getting ready to take the trials and his…You weren’t necessarily sure what he had been up to that had suddenly taken up all of his time, but when he showed up in your quarters late one night you didn’t care. You couldn’t be angry because you loved him and try as you might to push it away, you couldn’t.

After settling down on your bed, sitting across from each other, you decided that you would tell him the truth. That it only made sense to before you attempted to complete your training because you would give it all up and run away with him if he asked you. “Can I tell you something?” You whispered, glancing up into his face.

“You can tell me anything.” He whispered back.

As you opened your mouth to speak, you caught what seemed to be the smallest hint of fear emanating from him. Your eyebrows furrowed as you caught his gaze- it was somewhat hardened, his whole face was. “What…Are you all right, Anakin?”

And then the flood gates opened. He told you every single detail of his secret life, eyes filling with tears as he held your hands shakily. He told you about the horrible dreams he had been having- that was why he had come to you that night. He couldn’t tell Obi Wan and he didn’t have it in him to wake Padme for the fourth night in a row, especially when he knew she would tell him it was only a dream.

Like the good confidant you were, you nodded, listened, buried your emotions as best you could. It took all that you had not to scream at him to get out of your room and to never speak to you again because how could he not know how you felt? Did he really have no idea how it was wrenching you apart to hear that everything you had wanted with him from the moment you set eyes on him five years prior could never happen, not because of the rules of your profession, but because he had it already with someone else?

Reassuring him that while dreams sometimes foretold of the future, he still had control of the situation, of his emotions and his actions, you ushered him back to his own bed, desperately needing the opportunity to let go of your own frustrating and anger. He thanked you and, not uncharacteristically, pulled you to his chest, hugging you tight. Your lack of reciprocation was left unnoticed by his own self absorption.

“Oh, I forgot.” He said quietly just before he turned to go. “What was it that you wanted to tell me, Y/N?”

Your head snapped up as your hand hovered over the button to close the door. Without hesitation, your lie spilled from your lips as smooth as the mechanical whoosh your door made after he left just a moment later. “Just wanted to tell you that I think I’m finally ready to take my trials.”

Ten years had gone bye and you had left those fleeting moments far behind you. None of that longing seemed to matter anymore, not after what he did. Not after he had taken so many friends away from you.

After nine years of wandering on your own, trying to figure out where you had gone wrong and whether or not you could have stopped the monster that was Darth Vader from rising up, you decided to do something with your life. You found the rebellion and in turn found a home and a purpose. All of your energy was channeled into bringing down the Empire and bringing down the people that had destroyed the only family you had ever known. You hadn’t planned on ever having anything close to what you knew at the temple you grew up in, but you quickly found a close second in the rowdy bunch of freedom fighters you now shared close quarters with each night.

Rubbing elbows with them on missions where you barely made it out alive by the skin of your teeth was your new favorite past time- gone were the days of carefully planned out schedules, hours of silence, subduing of emotions that just felt so right regardless of what the Jedi Code was telling you. You had quickly traded your lightsaber for a blaster, let your hair grow long, and traded late night conversations with the fallen Chosen One for stolen kisses from your new lover between briefings and meals and training and missions and sheets.

Needless to say, you were happy.

Three weeks into your latest mission with your crew found your small, inconspicuous transport ship being pulled into the tractor beam of an Imperial Star Destroyer. Though this had happened to many other groups of rebels over the past few months or so and prisoners were rarely ever taken, you couldn’t help the rise of nervous energy in your chest as you prepared to be boarded. The people who typically interrogated the crews of the small transports typically bought the story each crew had been taught to spin. Before embarking on a mission of this nature, one had to be familiar with the ins and outs of their alias and the alias of the group as a whole- if the story wasn’t second nature, you weren’t getting on it.

“Don’t sweat it.” Your pilot said as she came out to join the rest of the crew standing just outside the cockpit. “We’re prepared for this.”  

Prepared. The word repeated like a prayer in your head as your fingers flexed in the pockets of your pants. Up until this point, not one person in the rebellion was aware of the fact that you were force sensitive. Nobody had ever seen the hilt of your lightsaber, nor did you practice the force in any other space other than in the privacy of the woods just a little ways from your bunker back on the base. Despite this, you wouldn’t hesitate if a mind trick or two got your crew of ten out of this situation alive. Attribute it to the force or just plain old intuition, for some reason you couldn’t shake the fear that continued to grow as the group of Imperial officers inevitably approached the ship after you had finally been brought into the docking bay of the destroyer.

Blasters drawn and faces stoic, four officers stepped on board- you hardly heard the conversation that ensued because the feeling that continued to nag at you only grew stronger. It set you on edge, made you squirm in your spot and tug at the collar of your shirt as you waited for them to get get out of your hair already.

Your fingers began to twitch just as the officer who had been received a transmission on his comm link. “You’re being taken on board for further questioning.” He said after a moment, glancing at your pilot.

Heart racing, your hands flew to your blaster, ready to put up a fight. However, there wasn’t much you could do, as two of the officers were on you already…The only one not to comply with their orders.

Needless to say, you had flagged your whole group with that simple action. A normal civilian transport would have no problem joining the officers on board for further questioning because they had nothing to hide. You had just damned the whole group to at least a day of detainment and the struggle of a life time to keep your story straight, as you only had been given enough information to cover basic questions. To stave off any further questioning.

The plan had always worked, what was different this time?

With a blaster pressed to the small of your back, you followed the rest of your crew, led by the two remaining officers that weren’t sandwiching you. Weapons were confiscated at one checkpoint, personal belongings at the next. You were divided up into pairs and tossed into detainment cells a little while after.

“This is bullshit!” You called after the guard that had locked you away while you slammed your fist into the door of the cell.

Your companion, the co-pilot of your crew, shook her head. “That’s not going to do us any good, you know.”

Turning on your heel, you raised an eyebrow skeptically. “I’m getting us out of here. All of us.” Your confidence emulated from the words as they rose from your chest. Sure, it was dangerous to reveal your abilities, but at that moment it was a hell of a lot better than being trapped on an Imperial Star Destroyer for an indefinite amount of time.

The co-pilot scoffed. “Oh yeah? And how do you expect to do that, blaster brain?” She rolled her eyes, propping her feet up on the wall across from where she sat. “You don’t have any weapon or a key or anything else to get us out. What would you even do after you got us all out, stare a bunch of stormtroopers down and hop they just back off because you look intimidating?”

Mirroring her expression, you moved your hand effortlessly. The door slid open and so did her mouth, in complete and utter shock. Offering her a hand, then moving toward the exit, you quipped, “I think that I’ll check around for some blasters, but I’m also willing to take my chances on your idea.”

She stayed rooted to the spot, in total shock at the fact that you had opened the door with a simple wave of your hand. With a frustrated sigh, you pulled her out of the room, starting to creep down the sterile looking hallway. You made it to the end, feeling somewhat victorious, and then waved your hand once more, opening the second door with as much ease as the first time.

“Your senses aren’t what they used to be.” A modulated voice rang out through the silent hallway just as the two of you began to step through the doorway.

Freezing up, you refused to turn around as footsteps echoed menacingly through the hallway. They sounded eerily familiar. So did the voice, despite its distorted echo.

“I sensed that it was you as soon as your ship landed in the launch bay.” The voice continued as you finally turned around. Eyes widened as you were faced with the face of a monster— Darth Vader. “But you seem to be out of practice.”

Try as you might, you couldn’t bring yourself to fight back as he continued toward you. “I don’t know you. You don’t know me.” You spat, trying hard as you could to keep your lip from trembling. The man you once loved was dead— the man in front of you had sought to that.

“I demand that you take us back to our cell for questioning.” The co-pilot began, clearly not realizing the gravity of the situation.

“Stand down.” You hissed to her as he got even closer. You averted your eyes, refusing to look at him straight in the face.

He tilted his head as he watched you both— one woman refusing to look him in the the eye, the other staring him down defiantly.  “But apparently not that out of practice if you were able to escape your holding cell.” With a flick of his wrist, your co-pilot was on the ground writhing in pain.

“Stop.” You said sternly, voice wavering as you finally glanced up to face the mask. The metal glistened in the bright lights of the hallway and try as you may, you were unable to get a read on him. You tried desperately to reach out to him, clinging to to the force as if it was the last thing anchoring you to the floor of the ship. It wouldn’t be a lie if you said it was. Your eyebrows furrowed as you struggled, trying to break in and understand what was going on in his head.

The tsk that left his lips was as artificial as it was superficial; his voice was mechanic and the sound was almost patronizing. He didn’t care that you were trying as hard as you could muster and he certainly didn’t plan on entertaining your attempts for much longer. “I tried to find you that day, you know.” He began to say, walking even closer. “Tried to reach out to you and tell you it was okay, that you were safe with me.”

You spat at the ground, then glared up at him through your eyelashes. “You would have killed me, too. Just like you killed every single damn person in that temple.”

“Not you.” He said immediately, refusing to let you continue. “You never had doubt in your head when it came to me. No.” You could practically see the smug smile on his face as his head tilted menacingly. “You were so fixed in your affection and would have turned immediately had I asked you.”

Despite all of the time that had passed since the last time the two of you stood face to face, your cheeks burnt like the surface of Mustafar, reminding Darth Vader of the heat that had licked his skin and distorted the face you had loved from the moment you laid eyes on him. “You don’t know me.” You replied, trying to keep your voice from betraying the emotions that threatened to bubble up. Not that it would make a difference, you knew he was well aware of the affect that he had on you. That this encounter was having on you. “You never knew me.”

The laugh that left his lips was low and grainy. “I know you very well.” He finally stopped just a mere few feet away from you. “I know that you love me, as hard as you tried to push it away.”

Your eyes widened as you shook your head in disgust. “I don’t love you. I can’t even stand to look at you right now.” You hissed, eyes narrowing. “You took everything from me, okay? Just let us all go. We haven’t done—“

“Stop groveling.” He snapped, flicking his wrist again. The strangled sounds coming from the woman next to you ceased and you refused to look down at your feet, knowing all too well that she was far gone. “I’m going to offer you what I would have offered you had I found you that day.” He began.

“Don’t do this.” You tried to stop him, shaking your head once more as tears pricked at your eyes. “You know what my answer’s going to be.”

He stepped forward, touching your chin and glancing down at you. “Join me.” He said simply. “You were once a powerful Jedi— I see the power in you still. You could be great.” He continued, tilting his head once again. “You could finally have what you always wanted.”

Your jaw dropped at this assertion; the fact that he still continued to believe that your love would have lasted through the horrors that he had put you through and the atrocities that he had committed would have made you laugh had you been in a different situation. Somewhere safe and far away, wrapped in the arms of your lover in your shared bunk. Laughing at this dumb story and talking about how what you had trumped any “love” that the lonely shell of a man wrapped in metal could have attempted to give you had you said yes.

Swallowing the lump threatening to rise in your throat, you spit once more and hit his helmet dead center. “Read my lips, Vader.” You said, voice cold and calculated. “Strike me down if you want, but I will never, ever join you. I have what I always wanted, and—“

Darth Vader didn’t give you another moment to continue speaking. His hand rose up, using the force to apply just enough pressure around your throat to push you into unconsciousness. A trooper finally emerged from the door behind you after you had fallen to the floor beside your comrade, now stiff and lifeless.

“Sir, what should we do with the Jedi?” She asked, tilting her head as her studied the two bodies laying at her feet.

Vader was already turning, unwilling to look at you for another second. “Bring her to the holding cell and dispose of the other one.” With a mechanic whoosh, the door at the opposite end of the hallway closed and he was gone. Despite your protests, he would have you on his side some day. He wouldn’t lose you again.

[glimmerglanger]

i literally adore your mirror-verse fic- it's speedily become one of my favourites! wondering (because i can't help myself but you would write it so much better) what would happen in an au where the anakins couldn't get back and ended up having to stay in the opposite universes!

Oooooooh, I like this idea. (An AU of an AU, :D) Let’s handwave that the physical effects of travel between the universes did not occur, as otherwise this would be very short and very sad, ending in two funerals.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the end, Palpatine caught up with Anakin and Obi-Wan before they ever managed to find a dark mirror beneath the Temple. In the end, Anakin decided not to make the same foolish mistake twice. In the end, he stood over Emperor’s body, panting hard and swaying on his feet, and Obi-Wan stepped up beside him, looking down, eyes wide and stunned.

“You killed him,” Obi-Wan said, as though he could not quite believe it, and--

And Anakin felt… strange inside. Good. Satisfied. Palpatine had begged, at the last, and Anakin had ignored him, remembering Obi-Wan’s body, wracked by Force lightning. He looked down at the lightsaber in his hand and slowly clipped it to his belt. “I did,” he said, and Obi-Wan looked up at him, expression open, stunned, grateful.

Anakin felt half-disconnected from all that was happening. His heart was still racing, and he did not think, much, about sliding his hand along Obi-Wan’s jaw, bringing him close, and kissing him. “For you,” he said, against Obi-Wan’s mouth, and Obi-Wan gripped him tighter.

It was some time before they thought to resume their search, and even when they did… they found nothing.

#

Obi-Wan searched beneath the Temple for hours - for so long that eventually Shadow protested and all but dragged him out again, insisting that he eat and sleep. They were interrupted upon exiting the catacombs by a delegation from the Senate, led by Palpatine, and everything that happened next seemed dreamlike, vague and hazy.

It ended with Palpatine dead on the ground, though, Shadow smiling grimly over his handiwork, looking over at Obi-Wan with his expression blazing. And Obi-Wan… might have protested, but he was exhausted and heartsick and, anyway, Palpatine had been the man responsible for millions - perhaps billions - of deaths.

He said as much to the Senate, when they were called in for emergency hearings. It was days, before they ever managed to reach the Temple again, much less resume a search beneath it.

#

Anakin’s gut jerk reaction was to run to the rebels, after they killed Palpatine. Obi-Wan sighed at the suggestion and pointed out that would prevent them from searching the lower levels of the Temple.

And so they did not go, they stayed on Coruscant and Anakin, thoughts buzzing and surging along, wanting to make this world better in some way, suggested that Obi-Wan take over as Emperor. Better him than anyone else in this terrible, broken place.

Besides, he thought, through a vague haze of exhaustion, if Obi-Wan were in charge, it would make it easier for them to search wherever they wanted. And - and when Anakin found a way home - and he would - Obi-Wan would be safe from his double, if the other Anakin wished him ill for the death of Palpatine.

The Emperor had all the protections possible, after all.

#

Shadow watched the meetings that led to the end of the war with an expression of supreme boredom. Obi-Wan supposed that he could not fault Shadow for that. After all, they were not in his world; they’d not been fighting his war.

He played along, when people called him General Skywalker, though. And he stayed at Obi-Wan’s side, scowling, sometimes, at the people who spoke with him. And he was there, in Obi-Wan’s room, when Grievous attempted a final attack.

He lost a leg, in the fight that followed, taking a blow for Obi-Wan and - and the war really felt like it ended, for Obi-Wan, when he carved Grievous to pieces of broken metal and barely functioning organics.

He left the pile of trash behind, pulling Shadow into his arms, and bearing him to the healing wing without thought.

#

There was no dark mirror beneath the Temple. Anakin was forced to admit it, eventually. The full powers of the Emperor’s wishes found them nothing, and that meant… well. There was nothing to find. Not that would help them, anyway.

He haunted the lower levels himself, sure that if he just looked a little closer he would find… some hidden room. Some way, something--

He stopped his restless search the evening he returned late to the palace to find a sense of foreboding in the air. A prickle ran up his spine, even before he heard a soft, pained sound, and the noise of flesh hitting flesh and--

And Anakin did not know who the people in Obi-Wan’s quarters were; he cared only that they had him on the ground, a blaster trained to his forehead and - and whoever they were, they had not anticipated Anakin appearing before them.

He clicked his lightsaber off, afterwards, standing in the midst of their scattered forms, barely breathing hard. He turned, dismissing them, and fell by Obi-Wan’s side. “It’s alright,” he said, hands on Obi-Wan’s shoulders, his chest, checking the severity of the wounds he bore, “it’s alright, it’s over.”

And Obi-Wan curled an arm around his neck, pulled him down, kissed his mouth and - and they had not exchanged such affection, not since Palpatine fell.

Anakin fell into it, a thousand wants surging through him, and he was not thinking when he stood, lifting Obi-Wan along, or when he walked from the room, barking an absent order to the guards only just appeared in the hall to clean up the mess left behind.

He brought Obi-Wan to clean quarters and - and they spoke little, moving together desperately, clinging, holding on, and after, Anakin said, “I’m sorry, I should have been here.”

Obi-Wan brushed his hair back, shaking his head. He said, “I understand. You want to go back to--”

“I want to stay here,” Anakin said, face hidden against Obi-Wan’s shoulder, the shameful truth slipping out of him. He lay sprawled across Obi-Wan’s body, bare skin all spread out for him to touch, and - and he rasped, “I don’t want to go anywhere that isn’t by your side.”

Obi-Wan’s fingers curled in his hair, his breath held for a moment. And then Obi-Wan nodded, and said, “Then stay.”

#

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan told Shadow one morning, weeks and weeks into their search for a way to get him home. Shadow was sitting across from him - already up for the morning - and tinkering with the mechanical leg he’d been given.

Shadow looked across at him, brow furrowed, and asked, “What are you sorry for?”

Obi-Wan sighed and sat up. Shadow’s nightmares had been particularly bad the previous night. Neither of them had slept much. He rubbed his face and said, “That I can’t get you home. Back to your Obi-Wan.”

Shadow hesitated for a moment, expression going distant. He set down his tools and stood. He said, “I miss him. Every day.”

Obi-Wan looked to the side. He missed Anakin, as well, though he knew it was - was different. They had been many things to one another, but not lovers. He had lost a friend, his dearest friend, but-- “I know,” he said.

“But I would miss you,” Shadow continued, reaching out to touch Obi-Wan’s jaw, to tilt his face up. “If I were to go back now. I’d miss you.”

Obi-Wan blinked up at him, chest aching. He’d grown used to Shadow, as well. He’d gotten used to showing him new aspects of the Force, to easing him through his nightmares, even - even to his affections, which grew harder to rebuff each time.

Obi-Wan swallowed, cutting his gaze to the side. He said, “I know it’s different--”

“It’s not,” Shadow said, bending so he could put his other hand on the bed, so they were ever so close to one another. “Not at all, really. I love you just as I love him, you know.”

And Obi-Wan shivered, for - for he had not known, he’d thought he was only a convenient replacement, the next best thing, and--- “Sh,” Shadow said, so close to him, words murmured against his mouth, “let me show you.”

[theforceflows]

The Moon and The Sun

Chapter Two: Husband and Wife

A/N: Please let me know what you guys think! What you like or don’t like about it so far and what you guys would like to see :)))

*Unedited*

Anakin woke to a warm body curled up on his chest, brown curls mused and haloed around a pretty, freckled face. His non-mechanical hand rose to brush a piece of hair away from Padmé’s closed eyes. She let out an adorable squeak, burrowing further into his chest, before squinting up at him drowsily.

“Ani?” He grinned at the way she said his name. It always filled his chest with a soothing warmth.

“Good morning, wife.” His grin was full of mischief, as always, and she couldn’t help but smile back, resting her chin on the back of the hand that was pressed against his toned chest.

“Good morning, husband.” Hearing Padmé refer to him as her husband caused him to jolt. It was real. He was married to Padmé, she was his and he was hers. He grabbed her by the hips and flipped so he was hovering over her.

“A woman of many titles. Queen, Senator, Defender of Democracy, Wife.” He smiled happily at the last one, finger gently tracing over her cheekbone as he studied her tenderly. Her hand came up to cup his, pressing a kiss to his nose.

“The last is my favorite.” He belted out a laugh, knowing damn well that she was lying.

“No it isn’t. Senator of Naboo will always hold your favor.” She giggled, happy to see him so lighthearted and momentarily flashing back to the day they spent rolling around lush green hills. She slid her hand to the back of his head, tangling her fingers in his sandy, loose, curls.

“Perhaps.” She conceded. “But the title of wife to you will always match it.” Her lips gently slid over his in a reassuring manner, knowing that, while he’d said it as a joke, he needed to know he was important to her. Her mouth travelled across his sharp jaw and down his neck, still in shock that she was able to do so, before flipping them over.

Her brown curls separated them from the outside world, from the reality that was desperately trying to enter their little bubble of happiness. She leapt over the side of the bed and slid on a lavender nightgown.

Anakin groaned, rubbing his hands over his face as his wife left his embrace, before propping himself on his elbows to watch her. “What are you doing?”

She looked at him with a grin, pulling her hair out from under the long, intricately decorated, robe she’d pulled on over her sleepwear. “Going to find someone to cook us breakfast.”

He barked out a laugh, fully aware that Padmé had never prepared food in her life. “I can do it, Angel. Just let me meditate and then I can prepare us something.” She loved when he meditated. He could never do it for long, unable to stay still as he was, but he always radiated peace. She loved to sit with him and absorb his presence, watching as the lake country moved with the wind.

Anakin definitely preferred Padmé’s presence during his morning meditation to Obi-Wan’s, she soothed him while his master made him antsy. She crawled back onto his lap and ruffled his hair affectionately. “Or, I can find someone to make us a hearty breakfast while you meditate and I get ready for the day.” He shook his head, hands gripping her by the thighs.

“Padmé, no one can know we’re here together. You know that.” She played with his long fingers in her lap and grinned up at him smugly from under her lashes.

“My Handmaidens know how to use discretion, Ani. Don’t worry, Dormé will handle it all.” She slid off him once more, and gave him one more lingering kiss, before gliding from the room, her gown and robe swirling around her ankles.

Anakin watched her go with adoration, jumping up and pulling on his neutral and plain Jedi pants. He strode out onto the balcony, blue eyes taking in the rolling hills and distant, crashing waterfalls that morphed into the still waters of a lake. He braced himself against the stone railing for a few minutes, soaking in the view, before pulling himself upright and folding his hands behind his back. His eyes drifted closed as he immersed himself in the Force, peace overcoming him. Despite his inability to be still, he did enjoy meditation. It felt like coming home, or being embraced by an old friend.

Anakin knew that he was more deeply connected with the Force than any others, his midichlorian count was higher than ever seen before, and, somehow he knew, would ever be seen in the future.

Even in meditation he could sense her, the way her curls tickled the exposed skin of her shoulders and back, the amusement bubbling from her lips at a comment Dormé had made, and the longing she felt to return to his side. The life forces of every thing around pulsed, but none as brightly or fiercely as hers. His lips curled up in a smile as the feel of heel washed through his system.

The Order would never approve of their union, they would toss him out if they ever discovered just what had occurred on the Senator’s home planet, but Anakin took pleasure in the knowledge that the Force had brought them into each other’s lives and approved of the resulting marriage.

Padmé softly stepped up beside her husband, grinning at how relaxed his face was, eyelashes brushing against high cheekbones. He smiled lightly when he felt her approach, letting her know that he knew she was there, but didn’t open his eyes or speak, continuing to meditate. She watched him, and the landscape, for awhile before moving back into her- their- room.

Her robe was dropped on the bed and, a few more steps later, her night gown pooled at her feet before she stepped into the fresher. A few short minutes later, she was twisting her hair intricately, adorning it gleaming silver bands.

Her curls were swirled atop of her head in loops, slightly reminiscent of Geonosis, and held in place with multiple wide, thick, silver bands that eventually met her hairline, while some hair still fell across her shoulders and was decorated by a crystals only found in Kashyyk.

She moved over to her wardrobe and pulled it open, thankful to be dressing on her own rather than by and with her Handmaidens.

The gown she pulled out was a dusty blue, a nod to her husband’s eyes, with billowing sleeves that curled in at her wrists, causing a plume like bunch of fabric to encircle them. It fell in subtle layers to the ground and clung to her torso, her curves accentuated by matching silver bands starting at her hips and cupping her breasts. It encircled her neck and flowed over her shoulders, a wide band atop each shoulder.

She slid a pin into the loops at the upper back of her head and slid in in. Tucking a variety of other objects under and into her hair and dress before rejoining her Jedi. When she stepped beside him he turned to face her, eyes raking over her, burning with a mixture of love and lust. “You’re so beautiful, Padmé, but now I want to just undress you once more.”

She laughed, kissing him, before tugging him back through their room. “Come along, Ani. Let’s go down for breakfast before we waste away due to you not allowing us out of bed. He chuckled, kissing the top of her head, and then pulled away from her.

He tugged his shirt over his head and strapped on his utility belt, comforted by the weight of his lightsaber against his hip. Once they were both fully dressed, he joined her in the hallway and took her hand once more. “As you wish, m’lady.” She smiled lightly at his teasing tone, eager to show him the meal she’d had prepared. He grinned at the sight of bantha meat, prepared finer than he’d ever seen, and shuura fruit desert. Something from his planet and something from hers. He pulled her into a deep kiss of gratitude and moved to pull her chair out for her. “Senator.”

“Thank you, Jedi Skywalker.” They both chuckled giddily as they served themselves. They were well aware that they weren’t going to get a honeymoon. That not too long from now that they’d both have to return to their duties and to real life. But in that moment, they refused to think about it, they were going to enjoy the time they had together before they had to return to pretending not to love each other.

Anakin knew he’d have to develop a plan to be able to spend time with Padmé discreetly, a path he’d take to her rooms in the Republic 5000 without being followed. He’d be damned if he didn’t sleep with his wife every night they were on the same planet. But right now, he was enjoying breakfast with the love of his life.

Padmé watched Anakin eat happily, thrilled he was enjoying it. Bantha meat wasn’t known for being the most enjoyable meal, so she’d taken a risk and had out prepared in a Nubian fashion. She’d been worried it wouldn’t have gone well with the Tatooine food or that he wouldn’t have liked it. But, Anakin seemed to enjoy it, he was scarfing it down. She grinned at him, finally beginning to eat herself. “Famished due to last night’s activities, lover?” His reaction was just as she’d hoped, he blanched, choking on his forkful of food. His lifestyle had caused him to be rather innocent, albeit a fierce warrior. Jedi, not allowed to have attachments and therefore having no use for it, were never taught about the acts between a man and a woman, and it was certainly never referred to so lightly in front of them.

And as Padmé was raised in a proper fashion, he definitely didn’t expect such comments from her. But they wasn’t in public, and he wasn’t someone she had to be professional around. This was Anakin, her best friend and love of her life. She had no such qualms about making jokes of that nature to him, especially when they made him blush as so.

When he finally managed to swallow the bite of food, he glared at her, aware of what she’d done. “And you’re not?” She smirked up at him, taking another bite before responding.

“Oh, I definitely am.” They both dissolved from heated stares to childish giggles.

After working their way through the main course and desert, they moved out into meadows. Padmé blushed prettily when Anakin tucked a pink flower into her hair. She grinned as she returned the favor, laughing at the sight of a big bad Jedi, padawan or not, with a flower behind his ear, tugging on his padawan braid affectionately. He revelled in her joy, in awe at the way she seemed to be made of sunshine, everything bright as her very core. He kissed her just beneath the ear before gently tackling her into the long grass, making sure to shield her from the impact. The two young lovers spent the rest of the afternoon rolling around and chasing each other, Padmé even going so far as to try Anakin’s joke, scaring the kriff out of him when she hit the ground and didn’t get up, but took quite a bit of joy in getting revenge on him for the same thing.

Anakin had been grumpy over it for about three minutes when Dormé had found them, bearing news from Queen Apailana. “My lady! My lady!” Padmé sat up, Anakin still stretched beneath her, and looked at her handmaidens with wide eyes.

“Dormé? Sateè? What’s wrong?” The two women were breathing normally, despite the distance they’d run, athletic as they were, and they kneeled beside their lady and her husband.

“The queen has sent word, my lady. She requests your presence at the palace as soon as you can get there.”

“Queen Apailana? Has something happened? “ Padmé rose to her feet gracefully, Anakin moving to stand next to her protectively out of instinct.

Dormé shook her head and Sateé peered at Anakin curiously, or having missed the position he and the Senator had been in. “I don’t know, my lady. But we have to get you packed and on a transport immediately. Your Jedi protector as well.” Anakin smiled thankfully at the handmaiden and nodded.

“Dormé’s right. Sateé will go ahead to assist in packing your things while Dormé and I accompany you back to the house, just in case the reason her highness wants you at the palace is because the threat to your life has risen, they might now where you are.”

Padmé shook her head. “If they knew where I was they would have struck already, and Queen Apailana would have sent guards as well as her request. Dormé, go with Sateé. I’ll be fine and Anakin will be with me. The faster I get packed the better, make sure to pack some things for Jedi Skywalker.” The two women nodded in respect and acquiescence.

“Yes, my lady.” They scurried off, Sateé shooting Anakin a look of warning, Dormé and Sabé being the only women who were aware of the marriage that had happened, having served as witnesses to their wedding, as well as Threepio and R2-D2.

Anakin pulled his lightsaber from his belt, gripping it tightly, and opened himself up to the Force, expanding his senses and staying alert for any threats, just in case. Padmé bristled at the waves of protectiveness rolling off of Anakin, remembering the stifling feeling of having her every movement watched when she’d originally been threatened.

She stopped walking, taking his elbows in her hands comfortingly. “Ani, everything’s fine. This place isn’t listed as a piece of property I, or my family, own, and it’s far from anywhere else. The chances of us being found are slim. I’m sure Apailana just wants to ask me to return to my post, let’s not borrow trouble.”

He peered down at her with burning eyes, his body curved over hers as if to shield her from an invisible threat. “You are everything, Padmé. If anything happened to you, I wouldn’t survive it. I know you hate being overprotected, but just give me this, or I will go mad.” She frowned at the thought of him not making it, but nodded, taking his free hand as they continued on their way.

When they entered their room, all of Padmé’s handmaidens were standing there, bags in hands, as well as Anakin’s droids. They looked regal, with long gowns and hooded heads, but the lovers knew that they were just as lethal, with weapons tucked in every available space. Anakin nodded at them in greeting as Padmé picked up a bag and they all nodded in return. Padmé took in the protective horde around her, sighing in annoyance and affection, before striding from the room.

Anakin stuck tightly to her side, lightsaber firmly in hand, as the Handmaidens formed a tight circle around their lady, eye’s flicking around subtly as they searched for threats. “We’re still in the house!”

Sabé tskd at her from her left and shook her head. “Let us do our jobs, my lady. And let us have the peace of mind that comes along with protecting you.” Padmé sighed but nodded, knowing this was fight she wouldn’t win.

They separated to pile into several speeders, knowing they all couldn’t squeeze into one. Anakin stood pressed to his wife as Sabé drove and Dormé kept an eye on their surroundings, a speeder ahead of them and one behind.

When they stepped back onto dry land the formation was quickly reassumed as she was rushed onto the first transport to Theed. People stared at the finely dressed crowd, the Handmaidens sure to keep Padmé out of view, having draped a cloak around her shoulders and made her pull a hood over her face. Everyone on Naboo knew of hero Queen-turned-Senator Amidala, and her face was recognised everywhere she went. The on edge group was already noticeable enough, especially with a Jedi in accompaniment, the last thing they needed was Padmé getting recognised.

The transport jolted to a halt, Nubians flooding out, followed by the obviously rich passengers. Queen Apailana had sent a transport and some guards to take them to the palace, and even Padmé grew a bit nervous at the sight of the royal guards waiting for them. Anakin stiffened farther, if that was even possible, and pulled her even closer. He took the bag in her hands and handed it off to Sateé, freeing Padmé to run or fight without difficulty if need be.

“It’s, fine, I’m okay, Anakin.” She mumbled reassuringly.

He mutely shook his head and nodded to the guards who joined their formation. The large group’s footsteps echoed throughout the ornate hallways of the palace, heavy doors being heaved open to reveal the throne room, Apailana perched regally in front of them. The guards immediately took up posts around the room as Apailana stood, moving to take her mentor and idol’s hand warmly.

“Senator Amidala, welcome. “

“Your highness, it’s good to see you. I’m afraid your urgent message has put my Handmaidens on edge.”

Apailana smile beautifully at the women surrounding her friend, eyes locking on Anakin. “My apologies, ladies. Jedi Skywalker, wonderful to see you again.”

He nodded and smiled stiffly at her. “You as well, your highness.”

“I’m happy to say I haven’t called you here for anything too distressing.” Apailana moved back to her throne and sat, the group moving forward with her. “Simply put, Palpatine, although from Naboo, does not share our values. He has seized too much power in your absence seeing how you are not there to help others see through his charm. If we do not take action, he will render the Senate powerless. I ask that you return to Coruscant. I’m aware that you went through quite the ordeal on Geonosis, but you are needed.”

Padmé dipped into a small curtsy, smiling diplomatically at her queen. “I understand, your highness. I am more than fit, and happy, to return to duty and serve my people.”

“You are an inspiration to all, Senator Amidala. Thank you for your continued service.”

“And you, your highness.” With a final curtesy, she spun around and glided our, Handmaidens and Jedi alike falling into position around her. When they stepped out into the perfect Nubian air, Padmé stopped, turning to her husband with a sigh. “As happy as I am to be working again, I will miss our ability to be together openly.” Anakin smiled sadly at her and took her into his arms.

“We’ll figure it out, angel. Coruscant won’t keep me from your side.” Padmé buried into his chest, allowing herself a few moment there, before pressing a kiss to the clothed planes of his chest and pulling away.

“Alright. Let’s get back to Coruscant.” The barrier of women was enough to keep admirers from his wife, but it did not discourage spectating.

They finally came within the silver coated, H-type yacht ship that acted as Padmé’s diplomatic transport. The silver gleamed in the sun, making the reflective surface difficult to look at. Padmé had once explained to Anakin that the silver denoted her status as a former queen of Naboo, and was the same color of the carrier of the royal household. It was a nice ship, sleek and fast but not nearly as heavily armed as her former ship when she was queen, but still had as strong of a shield.

The lack of weaponry irked Anakin, who wanted his very vocal wife as defended against those who violently disagreed with her politics as possible. Loading onto the ship took mere moments, explaining what was happening to a very inquisitive Threepio took more time than the Nubians and Anakin needed to get settled, especially when he and R2 began bickering. When they took off, Anakin slid into Padmé’s room, who looked at him sadly. The couple crawled into each other’s arms on the large, soft bed, desperate to spend as much time together as a couple, Coruscant, and real life, getting ever closer.

Chapter One

Chapter Three

[ilcuoreardendo-fic]

Acquisition, Part III (Vaderwan)

Someone actually had a prompt to this effect (that disappeared from my inbox) and I was already going that way... Another nonny was curious about what would happen after Vader told Obi-Wan to sleep in his own room (instead of hiding out in Luke’s). Previous parts to Acquisition.

___________________________

Obi-Wan spent the night undisturbed.

Vader had Luke up and on his lap eating toast and fruit before Obi-Wan rose the next morning; the boy was a spot of bright blue and green against the black of Vader’s armor.

After breakfast, Vader left Luke in Obi-Wan's care and disappeared for the day, joining them at the table as they had late meal in the evening. Obi-Wan was trying to help Luke eat a thick stew broth with a spoon, but eventually gave up and let the boy sip directly from the bowl. The tilt of Vader’s helm and the way he held his body made Obi-Wan think he was amused.

During Luke's bedtime story, Vader loomed in the doorway, listening.

When Obi-Wan bent to kiss Luke’s upturned face goodnight, a hand pressed against the small of his back and dropped away as he straightened. Vader stood next to the bed, crowding into Obi-Wan's space, but he didn't say anything and didn't try to stop Obi-Wan as he brushed past him, heading for the door.

That night and the following nights, he spent undisturbed; the days were spent in more strange domesticity.

As they moved around one another each day, strange binary stars, Vader lay they occasional light touch on him. On his back, shoulders, arms, hands; each time, his hands dropped away as Obi-Wan became aware of the touch. He expressed low, huffed amusement as Luke shared his dessert by shoving a piece of cake into Obi-Wan’s mouth. There was peace in the slope of his shoulders as he sat across the living room, watching Luke drift to sleep against Obi-Wan’s chest as Obi-Wan read to him.

It was almost…pleasant.

On the fifth night, sometime after he’d put Luke to bed, there was a knock at his bedroom door.

“My Lord?”

“Were you asleep?” Vader asked.

“Reading.”

“You can do that anywhere. Come with me. Bring your book.”

Obi-Wan followed Vader across the hall and into his rooms, hesitating briefly at the door before stepping inside. He'd like to think he didn't jump when the door closed behind him with a wave of Vader's hand.

Vader's room was part living area, part office. On one wall, there was a vid screen, a soft looking sofa and chairs surrounding it. On the opposite wall, a work table, steel, rubber and plastic components littering the surface and for a moment Obi-Wan flashes back to Anakin's room at the temple, the multitude of things he was always tinkering with.

And in between the domesticity of entertainment and hobbies, was a desk and computer terminal, vidphone, holomap reader and a rather comfortable looking desk chair that Vader sat in, watching him. He looked out of place.  

It was a very normal room.

“Sit down, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan skirted the edges of the room, sparing a glance at the closed door on the far end of the room, wondering briefly what was behind it, and slipped into the overstuffed chair beneath a reading lamp. The lamp clicked on before he could touch it. When he looked up, Vader was engrossed with something on his terminal. He spared no glance at Obi-Wan. And when minutes ticked by without that changing, Obi-Wan spread his book open on his lap and began to read.

It happened again the next night. And the one after. Once Luke was put to bed, Vader either herded Obi-Wan to his rooms immediately after or – if he'd been absent as Obi-Wan read to Luke – he showed up at Obi-Wan's bedroom door with a few hours.

On the seventh night, Obi-Wan asked why.

Silence stretched, filled with the rasp of Vader's breathing. “It pleases me to have you close.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow.

“Your presence is soothing.”

Obi-Wan’s second eyebrow joined the first near his hairline before he got his expression under control.

He remembered Anakin saying something similar when he sought Obi-Wan out when something troubled him, whether it was arguments with other padawans or, later, his insecurities about teaching Ahsoka.

But that was Anakin.

A Sith seeking to be soothed.  That was something else.

“Even with this?” Obi-Wan ran his finger over the plating of his collar.

“The collar mutes your connection to the Force. You still shine bright as a star to anyone who can see it.”

“Lucky them.” Obi-Wan knew he sounded bitter, found he didn’t care.

Vader’s helm fixed its placid gaze on him. “I can fix that. I can get a new collar. You won't be able to use the Force, but you will be able to sense it. After a fashion.”

Obi-Wan's fingers twitched over the top of his book and, while Vader didn't move, Obi-Wan could feel his gaze trailing from his face to his fingertips and back. He carefully shuttered his expression. To feel the Force again. To sense it, even if he couldn’t touch it, wield it. The idea made Obi-Wan's chest ache.

There must be a catch.

“I’ll think about it,” Obi-Wan said, turning back to his book.

Shared evenings became the new normal.

Sometimes Vader engaged him in conversation. At others, he left Obi-Wan to his own devices, reading or watching the news on the holonet.

Obi-Wan found himself observing Vader as he bent over a datapad, staring inscrutably at news of skirmishes in the mid-rim, in what were once Republic strongholds now chafing under Imperial rule.

On several occasions, Vader asked Obi-Wan a leading question, on history or politics or even the state of the Empire’s expansion. They were meant to make him respond with incredulity, even outrage. And Obi-Wan, emerging from the depths of his book, was often deep into an answer before he realized what Vader had done.

It reminded him so much of Anakin that something deep inside him cracked every time, threatened to shatter.

Then something did shatter.

Obi-Wan turned on the bed, could feel the cool sheets beneath his fingertips, twisting around his legs. But his mind was awash in memory. He and Anakin, during their final mission as Master and Padawan, at negotiations on some small planet wishing to join the Republic in the wake of Separatist encroachment. The quarters they had been given were simple, with a small bed and ensuite ‘fresher.

They had argued over the bed, ending in an agreement to trade off nights. On their last evening, Obi-Wan had the bed.

And that was where dream parted from reality.

Obi-Wan woke to Anakin crawling into the bed next to him, over him. He could see the gleam of moonlight in his padawan’s eyes, off the curve of Anakin’s new mechanical arm.

“Master,” Anakin whispered. The whisper fell against Obi-Wan’s lips. It was followed by the warmth of Anakin’s mouth. His lips were faintly chapped, tongue a lush wet heat. The hands that slipped beneath Obi-Wan’s tunic were hot. Long fingers plucked at his nipples and scratched down his chest, slid beneath the waist band of his sleep pants.

“Tell me to stop, Obi-Wan and I will. Tell me to stop. Tell me you don’t want this and it ends.” Anakin followed each command with a kiss to Obi-Wan’s mouth, smothering Obi-Wan’s words. Anakin’s fingers wrapped around him, cool compared to his erection, and Obi-Wan couldn’t stop himself from thrusting into the grip reflexively. A sweet, sharp twist of Anakin’s hand had him groaning.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes to a ceiling full of blue shadows. The same shades that swam through Anakin’s eyes as he knelt over him. Obi-Wan’s muscles seized and his orgasm rushed through him, unstoppable. He threw his head back against the pillow, gasping.

He lay there for some time after, listening to his slowing heart rate, feeling his semen cooling sticky on his belly, watching the dream drift away like smoke on the early morning air, leaving him alone, chilled, smelling of sex and wondering at what his mind was trying to tell him by coming up with a fiction that felt so much like reality.

 The dream followed him as he started his day. At breakfast, he listened to Luke chattering to Vader, speaking only when directly addressed, leaving Vader to mind Luke, only half paying attention as Vader had to Force catch a piece of toast that went sailing off the toddler’s plate when he tired of eating.

“Obi-Wan.” Vader’s hand was on his shoulder. “Luke wants his bath.”

“Of course,” Obi-Wan said, rising. Vader’s hand slid heavily down his arm to rest on his wrist.

“Is there something the matter, Obi-Wan?” The black helm was cocked to the side and the move was so familiar, Obi-Wan could imagine Anakin raising his eyebrows.

“Everything’s fine,” Obi-Wan said, moving quickly to lift Luke from his chair. “I didn't sleep well. That's all.”

“Bad dreams?”

Obi-Wan paused, unsure if there was something knowing in Vader's voice or if it were his own paranoia making him hear things.

“After a fashion,” he finally said, and whether that was answer enough or not, Vader didn't stop him as he left the room with Luke in his arms.

 Luke was difficult during his bath, fussing and making sure Obi-Wan got just as wet as he did. The fussiness continued after the bath, as Luke picked up and discarded toys, pushed away the book Obi-Wan offered to read to him, before finally sitting down in a corner next to his plush hawk-bat and picking morosely at its fur.

Obi-Wan wondered how much of his own mood Luke might be picking up on. Sitting in a corner and doing nothing sounded appealing to him too. A passing speeder caught his eye through the window and the bright blue curve of sky and green tree tops led his gaze to the grounds. Grounds he’d never been on.

“Luke, would you like to do something different today?”

As soon as they were outside, Luke begged to be put down and Obi-Wan released him, with an admonition to stay close as they walked in the early summer sun. Luke trotted in front of him, occasionally pausing to look at a particularly interesting bug or one of the large rocks that lined the walking path and sometimes running back to Obi-Wan to gift him a small pebble.

They walked until they reached the edge of the property with its sprawling lake. Obi-Wan remembered it from the map of the grounds he had seen a few weeks after Vader brought him here. The water reflected the blue of the sky.

Taking off their shoes, they sat at the water’s edge. Luke made constructions from the soft mud and babbled excitedly when he caught the flash of silver and blue fish in the shallows.

“If you put your hand in the water,” Obi-Wan told him, “and hold very still, you might be able to touch one.”

Luke, eyes wide, did as Obi-Wan suggested. Eventually, and one by one, curiosity got the better of the fish and they swam close, investigating Luke's fingers, looking for any signs of food.  Luke shifted to touch them and they shot off through the water in flurry of shining colors, making him laugh and try again.  Eventually he bored of the fish and turned his attention to the small water fowl dotting the line of the shore, chasing them into the shallows to watch them submerge and come up several meters away, chattering at him.

A knot of shame tightened in Obi-Wan's stomach as he watched Luke play and wondered when the boy had last been outside. Truly outside. He hadn’t even entertained the idea, so caught up in his own grief and worries. And for what? He had no plans to run, no path of escape. Why run when the running exhausted him? Why hide when he would be found? Why fight with sabers and side-arms when he could fight with words and teachings? Why search for a future in the Outer Rim when the one that mattered was right here?

Obi-Wan looked up and found Luke gone. He was on his feet before he registered moving, heading toward the water. There, on a little spit of rock, crouched Luke. He was reaching for a shiny water violet that floated just out of reach.

The air thickened, weighing Obi-Wan down. His feet sank into the soft sand. Time itself seemed to slow. And he watched Luke falter, try to catch himself and tumble into the water, disappearing beneath the silver sheen.

He didn’t resurface.

With a gasp of Obi-Wan’s breath, time restarted and Obi-Wan was waist deep in water in a moment, flinging himself to the spot where Luke’s blond head had vanished, diving and resurfacing empty handed multiple times, unable to see anything through the stirred up silt.

A tingle ran down the length of his spine, sizzling hot. He had enough preservational awareness to consider the collar, even as he dove again. His fingers reached, grasped, finally closed around a soft arm and pulled.

He broke the surface with Luke in his hands and felt the collar short. For a micro-moment, all that he was and had been came flooding back to him. He could feel the fish stirring in the lake, the birds flying overhead, hear the trees whispering. The bright spot that was Luke nearly blinded him.

He wanted to revel in it.

But then came pain, burning through him, making his jaw clench so hard he was sure his teeth cracked. He reached, grasped the Force as he hadn’t in months, brought it to wrap around Luke and propelled the boy up and through the air to the shoreline.

He heard him cough, heard him cry.

And then heard nothing else as his world was eclipsed by a star inside his brain going nova.

The last thing he remembered was the water rushing over his head.

[politicalmamaduck]

two traitors and a scavenger

For @reylotrashcompactor. <3

You can read it on ao3 here.

The traitor was more handsome than Kylo Ren would want to admit, and the scavenger girl had an unpolished allure. He had noticed it right away, in the dark night and bloodstained snow of Starkiller.

They both looked well with more meat on their bones, and they seemed to glow in each other’s presence, bringing out the best in one another.

It was unfair that the Resistance could lay claim to such impassive beauty. His parents had been such, he knew, and he seemed to have inherited the worst of both of their features. He could see these two becoming the new golden power couple, the heroes and symbols of the Resistance. From a princess and a scoundrel to a scavenger and a traitor.

Such a life never could have been for him. He had accepted that long ago. He loved and coveted passionately and deeply, but such love was unreturned.  

Without his mask, Kylo Ren schooled his features into an imperious and superior scowl, pretending to be indifferent to the parade before him of Resistance officers laying out his charges. He awaited sentencing and trial behind a cell door at the center of their base. He pretended not to care, pretended to not desperately crave a comforting touch. His fingers ached for his lightsaber and his soul yearned for the solace of a training room filled with practice droids to destroy.

….

It was the traitor who came to him first.

His dark eyes and warm skin were luxurious, tempting.

“I hated you,” he said, softly but firmly. “Now I pity you. Your mother wants to talk to you, but you keep shutting her out.”

I know, Kylo Ren thought. I don’t deserve her. Or you. Or the scavenger. Or anyone.

“If you don’t do it for her sake, do it for yourself. Don’t let Snoke’s poison keep eating you. Don’t give in to your hate. Believe me--it doesn’t help anything.”

With that, he turned his back and left, another ghost from Kylo’s past come back to haunt him.

It was the scavenger who came the next day.

Her eyes and skin were lighter than the traitor’s, but still warm and glowing.

“Ben, please,” she said, more aggressively than the traitor. “Don’t do this to yourself. We want to help you. Please talk to your mother. Talk to Finn. Talk to a therapist. Talk to anyone.”

“Why do you care?”  

“Because I can feel the Force bleeding from you. It’s an open wound. I can feel you and your pain as my own. Finn does too. None of us can sleep.”

She was pacing his small cell, her hand on her head.

“You could do so much more with time.”

He scoffed at that.

“I’m sure no one has properly said this to you either, but we’re grateful. We’re in your debt.”

“For what?” he asked, spitting the words out and looking up at her. Her countenance was completely open and honest.

“For killing Snoke. For coming home.”

Like the traitor, Rey turned her back and left Kylo alone with his thoughts.

…

It became a pattern. Finn and Rey would visit his cell on alternating nights. After the first week had passed in that manner, Finn brought a ship part he was having trouble fixing.

“I’m trying to learn,” he said. “I want to be better at mechanics. But Chewie and Poe and the others don’t have time to teach me.”

So they’re still fighting, Kylo thought. It must have been difficult for them to spare the two young Jedi to watch over him, guard him. Keep him locked away.

Their hands brushed as they turned over the metal, and an electric current passed through Kylo.

If Finn noticed, he graciously pretended not to, and Kylo felt a wave of his own well-practiced self-loathing after the charge had passed.

“Thank you,” he said as he left. “I’ll be back on Tuesday with R2-D2.”

Kylo rolled his eyes, saying “That sassy old droid is better left alone.”

Finn laughed, and Kylo felt the pull to the light more strongly than ever.

Until the next night with Rey, who was achingly beautiful as she handed him a book on flimsiplast and asked him to teach her Alderaanian.

Kylo hadn’t spoken, read, or written Alderaanian in over ten years.

“I can’t,” he said, looking away from her, tears stinging his eyes.

“Please,” she said, and she took his hands in her own. He didn’t feel the electric current he had when he touched Finn’s hands, but he savored the feeling nonetheless. Her hands were larger than the average woman’s, yet so much smaller than his own. He had big hands, in addition to big ears and feet. He always had. He cringed, remembering being an awkward, ungainly teenager who wrote Alderaanian poetry, and then the tears did come.

He cried into Rey’s shoulder, and the next morning, he went to see the therapist.

That night Finn came, R2-D2 barrelling alongside him.

Kylo’s nerves were raw and aching from the night before and that morning, and he turned his face from the man and the droid.

R2 squawked and rammed into him, demanding his attention. Kylo did not turn his face until Finn cupped his chin in his hand and turned him towards him.

“Hey,” he said. “It’s going to be okay.”

He looked at him, unflinchingly, with those deep brown eyes. His eyes were as strong and powerful as the woods of the trees on Kashyyyk, as calming as the waves of Naboo.

They sat, meditating and doing breathing exercises, ignoring R2, who returned the following night with Kylo’s uncle instead of Rey.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” Kylo said.

“You don’t have to, Ben,” said his uncle. “I’m not going to force you to do things you don’t want to anymore.”

They sat in silence while R2 played them old holos that had been discovered in the depths of his databanks.

Anakin Skywalker and Padme Amidala, beautiful, passionate, young.

Obi-Wan Kenobi, wise and powerful.

Ahsoka Tano, fierce and independent.

When they left, his uncle turned to him.

“They’re good for you, you know. Don’t take them for granted. I miss your aunt every day.”

He turned and left, cryptic as usual, though Ben knew exactly who he meant.

He didn’t take Rey and Finn for granted.

He missed Aunt Mara too.

Another week passed with nightly visits from the pair after morning sessions with the therapist.

Kylo’s heart continued to pound and flutter, scarcely allowing himself to hope.

It had been three weeks of this after months of silence and solitary confinement, after years of Snoke’s incessant torture beating at his brain.

Thirty-three years, to be precise.

Ben went to go see his mother, and wept into her arms too.

They spoke Alderaanian, and Ben started to feel whole again.

The next night was Ben’s first in his own room rather than a cell. He was still under surveillance and heavily guarded and isolated.

Finn and Rey came together, bringing a box of old holos and a small plant.

His heart fluttered. They exchanged a look, and smiled at him.

“I found these,” Finn said. “They’re old war holos. Thought maybe you’d want to watch them with me. There’s a lot to learn from strategies and techniques that worked and didn’t work in the past.”

“I started growing this,” Rey said. “It doesn’t need a lot of water or sunlight. It’s very hardy, you’ll see.”

Ben hugged them both in turn, not saying a word. Both kissed one of his cheeks, clasping the other with their hand.

They sat, arms around each other, and watched one of Finn’s holos.

The next night, Rey and Finn held hands.

Rey used her other hand to pull Ben’s face down to her own and kissed him deeply. It was everything he had imagined it would be, and more.

Finn kissed him next, and it became better than his dreams.

It was awkward, at first, trying to fit all three of them in his bed. They were entwined with each other and in the Force, bodies and minds melding and three becoming one.

They fell asleep, entangled, limbs jutting everywhere, soft warm skin on soft warm skin.