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sabraeal · 1 year ago

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At Your Command, Chapter 2

[Read on AO3]

They’ve got two guards at the gate— well, two that he can see, though he doesn’t doubt there’s a dozen more posted around this entrance, up on parapets and spying through towers, yucking it up each time some courtier acts out the inciting event in one of those puppet shows in the market. There’s a younger one— fair as any prince, at least by the etchings in the paper— his hat just scarcely too large to sit above his ears. An idiot, by the looks of things. An easy dupe.

The other one, though—

“Revoked?” The older guard sits back in his hips, eyeing the Marquis’s order— and his scar— with a hefty amount of skepticism. “Out of nowhere.”

Out of all the expressions he bends his face into, patronizing smile isn’t part of his regular vocabulary. It’s a real tussle between the muscles and teeth to keep it there instead of gritting down to a grimace. Gate guards aren’t meant to question noble couriers, especially not ones that come around flashing royal seals and dropping titles with more history than the palace itself, but here he is, standing in front of the only soldier with more than two thoughts to clack together to make a spark. Any minute now, this guy’s going to bark out an “Explain!” and he’ll have to dance the dangerous edge between obeying the letter of the law and defying its intent.

Or at least he would, if he wasn’t wearing this nice little uniform.

“Enough.” His teeth snap around the word with every ounce of authority the Marquis’s crest lends him. It’s not much this many rungs down the ladder, but it’s more than these chuckleheads have. “No objections.”

Oh, he makes a good show of barking and gnashing, but he might well be one of those little pillow dogs the ladies keep for all the good it does him. Now even the dupe’s got a wary look in his eyes, jaw setting the way it does before people start asking him things like, can I see your credentials, and what did you say your name is again.

Ha, he’d heard the Elder Highness ran a tight ship, but this is something else. Daddy might have let his lords throw their weight around, bullying the poor boys on door duty as if it were one of those divine rights passed down to them on high, but it seems at least this apple got flung far from the tree. Part of him’s impressed, he’s got to admit, but the other part—

The other part’s got a job to do. And, if this goes on any longer, a real nasty itch to scratch.

“Please try to understand”— he’s a study in softness now, pressing a hand to his heart, shoulders taking the same pleading tilt as his brow— “how this decision must have pained His Highness.”

The dupe’s all eyes now, wide and trembling, real taken with the idea of some princeling’s struggle with his tender emotions. But the older guard shifts his weight, arms crossed, and frowns. It’ll take more than a few tears and tugged heartstrings to get this guy to swallow a story.

Good thing he doesn’t have to. All he’s got to do is lean close, squinting down at the elegant sweep of the Marquis’s signature across the page, and he sees it too: it’s legal. However the hero here feels about this particular little prescript, putting it to question is well above his paygrade. At least so long as it’s the old king’s cousin who’s got his name slapped on it as co-signer.

“Well.” The scroll snaps shut in his hand, and he flashes the hero the sort of grin found on a knife’s edge. “That will be all.”

It’s new to him, walking away like this— lofty chin and step so springy he might looking into a high horse when all is said and done. A guy could get used to this sort of thing, no to mention the weight of his purse and the promise of enough food to fill him. All he’s got to do now is get back to His Grace and—

“Wait!” the older one shouts, giving him one hobbled step before he adds, “Get back here!”

It’s the sort of shout that could be for anyone— hell, he’s half convinced it’s not even him, up until his heels start sticking to the pavement, not so much holding him in place as making it a real hassle to saunter off with any style. Give the guy a few years and maybe he’d get enough gravitas to haul him up short, but as it is, he’s an annoyance rather than a threat. The kind that’s got him gritting his teeth to keep that servile smile on his face. “Excuse me. Is there—?”

“We’ve got to tell the prince.” It’s the younger one who says it— whispers it, really, the way mummers do on stage, loud enough to be heard all the way in the eaves— eyes anxiously aimed at his superior.

It’s a miracle he manages to grit out, “Tell the prince what?”

“It’s Lady Shirayuki,” the older one replies, not possessed with the same sense of urgency as his partner. In fact, he’s downright leisurely when he adds, “She forgot a book in the prince’s office and came back to get it.”

“It was just before you came, sir!” The idiot’s practically biting his nails down to the quick just thinking of it. “She’s already gone through!”

This job was supposed to go off without a hitch.

There’s no wiggle room for mistakes in this business; not when the difference between a good grift and a shallow grave is balanced on a blade’s edge. All it takes is a glance too unsavory or a word misspoke to see a man clapped in irons, dragged off to dungeons so deep even his own mother would forget his name. If he had one, that is. Men like him usually don’t.

Oh, not every job’s determined at knife point, draw blood or be bled, but the point still stands: there’s no such thing as a do-over when the coin you’ll pay with is your life. No amount of almosts will fill an empty belly, or a keep a body warm at night on the Port City’s streets. In a world where everyone’s fighting for scraps, it’s the ones who walk away that win. And he—

Well, he’s built a career out of being the one that does. Too bad this prince-chaser chick hasn’t gotten the message.

She’s probably skipped her way off to His Highness already, none the wiser. Makes the timing of this whole order a little sticky, but it’s nothing he can’t straighten out once she’s out of the pretty prince’s eyesight. Nothing like a royal decree and a frog march with a few guardsmen to really sell the story, after all.

But when he whips around, searching the scene through the gate, and— there, a flash of red flitting through the arcade. Ha, so the idiot hadn’t lied when about her coming through just before he got here. And just his luck, she’d stuck around long enough to hear her golden ticket get revoked.

His hand clenches on his shoulder, barely dulling the ache. Well, isn’t this nice? In the time it’d take him to convince the guards to get up off their duffs, the little gold digger’s going to have gotten her teeth sunk into the prince.

He’s never been much for plans. Contingencies, sure— nothing wrong with stacking the deck in to make sure he stays in Lady Luck’s favor. But when at any given moment a casual remark can drag his day to grinding halt, it’s his wits he’s learned to fly by. Wits and a good dose of sheer animal instinct, since when he tracks that cardinal weaving between columns, he’s already up on his toes, ready to give chase.

Not on her heels like some wet-behind-the-ears footpad on his first follow— that would take him through too many people, guards and nobles alike, all of them used to giving commands and expecting to be obeyed. No, he’s a half dozen steps past the gate when he finds his first foothold, vaulting himself up onto the shifting thatch of some outbuilding. It’s only a skip and a jump— maybe a harrowing leap or two, but who’s counting— before he’s up on the castle’s roof, tiles clacking and clattering beneath his boots. Not his usual ones, worn in and worn down, silent as a whisper, but the new ones His Grace’s bootblacks had shined to gleaming, made more for stirrups than streets, and certainly not for rooftops.

These tiles aren’t made for walking either, but he’s no stranger to making do— even a slip off the gutters is better than being brought to his knees by some young court flower, shocked at the impropriety of a man passing by her too quick. They might shift and slide, their smooth surfaces slick beneath a pair of boots too fine for friction, but his stride is still longer than some little miss, and his path far straighter. Oh, she might know all the twists and turns between the gate and the west wing, but he—

Well, all he needs is line of sight.

Plans might not be his forte, but his one contingency is tucked up against the tower— a library maybe, or some royal offices, he’d never bothered to check— caught against the rough patchwork between one hall’s straight roof and the curve of the tower’s. The quiver’s untouched, bow still safe in the shadows even under the mid-day sun, and it’s nothing to string it, just—

Just this damned coat doesn’t fit. One pull to full draw and he’s got shoulders up to his neck, practically drowning him in wool.

“Ha.” He’s careful to set the bow down gentle, leaning it against the fancy balustrade they’ve got rigged up round this place, even though there’s not even a door to get out to it. “Should have known. Noble messenger was never gonna sit easy on these shoulders.”

There’s no time for a full costume change, not when he can see her dodging the west wing guards idling in the arcade, but he’s got enough to shuck off his shell of respectability, letting it crumple to the tile. Hopefully whoever His Grace lifted it from didn’t expect it back— he sure wouldn’t be carting it through the gutters to make it happen.

Strung and nocked, the bow sits easy in his hands, not even a tremble on the draw. She’s not quick enough to make aiming a challenge, cutting a path without a single dodge or weave save for where she needs to skirt passerby. If he let it loose right now, he could stop her right in her tracks, let her bleed crimson all over this spotless white, but—

Don’t harm her. His hand jerks, curse curled around it, loosing the arrow wide, burying ash in stone rather than skin. He grins, draw hand flexing at his side.

“Nice,” he murmurs, watching the girl stare at the shaft that’s sprouted from the wall in front her. “Couldn’t have done it better myself.”

There’s a message bound on the shaft, a pretty bit of ribbon he’d snagged from a passing pigtail, but he doubts she’ll see it, never mind bother to read it. The arrow’s enough, most times, for people to pick up that they’re not wanted. This is the part of the job he likes most— in fear, everyone obeys with the same haste as he does.

But not this girl. The ribbon’s half unfurled from the force of the shot, and she lets it trail between her fingers as she unwraps the rest. To our dear red-headed guest, it reads, a clever bit if he says so himself— but even with the spyglass, he’s too far away to appreciate how her eyes must widen, how all that brazen greed must give out to fear. His one regret keeping his hands so clean on this one, since—

Since she just rips is out of the wall and runs. Not out, the way any reasonable person would, but in. Not to safety but toward—

Toward the prince. The prince, and this whole little debacle going entirely tits up.

Make sure she goes home. The command itches like a pulse beneath his skin, one he can feel all the way to his fingers. And for once, he doesn’t resist.

Little Miss Pushing-Her-Luck careens around the colonnades' corners, boots squealing as she slips past another pair of promising guardsmen, too confounded by her speed to do more than shout out, “Slow down!” before her back disappears.

The command nips at his heels, trying to sink its teeth into enough sinew to hobble him— that’s the real danger being out in the streets; this curse likes to turn caltrop whenever his ear catches a raised voice— but he’s old hand at dancing out of arm’s reach. A few hops across a convenient balcony and a tip-toe across a balustrade sees him safe, whatever weak tether those words have snapping as he drops down onto a tree branch. His feet plant, back to bark, as she races through the halls around him, arrow still clutched in her grip.

“Welp,” he sighs, cold metal sliding between his knuckles like old friend. “I tried to be nice, but looks like the only way to get rid of a leech is the old fashioned way.”

He lifts his arm, letting his curse set his aim—

Just to catch himself as a mop of silver-white rounds the corner, trailed by a giant and a goddess, both with blades at their hip— and the casual coiled strength of people who know how to use them. His Highness and his aides— the younger one. “Shirayuki?”

Well, damn. Steel presses cold to his palms as he pockets them. Looks like he’s run out of chances.

He expects the girl to hole up; after all, what better way to cozen up to a prince than to convince him her life’s on the line? His Grace might have told him to keep the carpets clean when it came to dislodging this particular pest from the palace, but it’ll take more than a little discouragement now that she’s gone to ground. No way she’ll just walk out here and let him have another chance—

And yet, that’s what she does. Slips right out of the prince’s office— empty-handed, he notices, stomach sinking down to his knees— and down the colonnade. Like she were any other guest. Like she didn’t just survive an arrow flying in her path.

This girl’s either the bravest woman he’s ever seen, or the stupidest. And he doesn’t have time to decide, not before she takes two steps and comes face to face with the one person who can make this situation even worse: his boss.

His fingers dig right into his shoulder, trying to ease the ache. It’s not his business, whatever they’re talking about. Not unless His Grace had a mind to make it so, which doesn’t seem likely when—

Ah, when he’s drawing his blade. And holding it, right there, at the young miss’s throat.

Protect your client. His breath catches, old words gripping him like a mother cat does its kitten: with jaws around its neck. Even at cost to yourself.

“Ha.” The laugh slips through the space between his teeth. “Guess there’s no getting around that one.”

It’s not easy to climb his way over— the trees here are ornamental, meant to sway prettily in the breeze, not hold weight, and spaced to encourage soft-soled nobles to stroll between them. A scoundrel swinging from branch-to-branch is straight out.

And yet, with a few more gravity-defying leaps than he’d like to think about, he makes it to the one just beneath the second floor’s balustrade. Fingers gripping tight, they hauling him up, his arms giving one good tremble before he spills himself over the stone. Ah, maybe he shouldn’t have turned his nose up at that breakfast. Looks like he could have used it.

He glances up, ears perked to hear just what sort of drama has unfolded in his absence—

“Fine, if you’re right, and I’m not supposed to be here” —the girl steps forward, the blade so close it dints her skin— “then it’s your duty to take that blade and cut me down.”

—and somehow it’s gone and got worse. Ah, if only his shoulder would let up on him, maybe he’d be able to think this through. At least before His Grace went and did his job for him.

“Stop, girl!” The naked blade trembles, catching the barest glint of the afternoon sun. “I won’t hesitate.”

There’s a moment where the girl startles, eyes blinking wide, first to His Grace, then to the sword between them. This is where anyone else would balk, where they would shuffle back and try to save face, but she—

She only smiles, letting the point dip so close it’s luck that keeps it from drawing blood. “Be my guest.”

#obiyukibingo24 #obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #ella enchanted au #my fic #ans #it's been years but the bingo gods delivered this to me on a silver platter so HERE I AM #i was hoping to actually get to the place where obi and shirayuki meet #BUT HEY #what's a little more obi acting shady for our pleasure here #next chapter-- whenever it happens-- should have some real lore drops for the careful reader 😏

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thechaoticfanartist · 1 year ago

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She felt something in the Force, and she knew deep inside what had started. Dread filled her heart. The closer they got closer to the Falcon, the worse it became. She had tried to push it back for the sake of Luke, Leia, and Han, but she knew what was about to happen. The worst part was: She knew she could not stop it.

She had said her final goodbye, but she hadn’t said enough. There would never be enough time or enough words to say all of the things she wanted to say to Obi-Wan. They had been apart for sixteen years, and the six years they had known each other, he had never truly known Grim, he had just known her the best out of everyone.

He could have never fully known her, as she had kept too many secrets. He had never pressed her to talk about them, and he understood her more than so many others. He had wanted to help her, and he had, and there would never be enough time or words to thank him for all he had done for her.

Now, he was about to die, and she knew he was already facing Vader. She wished she was with him, she wished she could help him, and that she could save him, but she couldn’t.

-As Long As There's Light, Chapter 4

#im dropping this snippet of the next alatl chapter and running #grim kennet #grim and obi wan

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dathomirdumpsterfire · 2 years ago

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oh ho ho, chat has decided that.....

y'all love seeing obi-wan get fucked up, don't you? a'ight, real talk, how many of you are sith or sith adjacent? cuz we all know obi-wan is catnip for darksiders, and like, games, escape, comfort, and care all lost. 😂

#cracks knuckles #chat writes the plot #i'm on it #next chapter now loading #darth maul #star wars #sith #zabrak #maul opress #nightbrothers #obi wan kenobi #obimaul #monster!maul #naboo #king of the dragonfish #fanfic by polls

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rewordthis · 1 year ago

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So we are just 3 episodes in and they already fucked up my man’s age! I hate every asshole that messes up with things like that with a burning passion!!!

They even omitted the year of his birth!!! 167 Sol Year! Ah, but they were kind enough to keep the current year (196). Ugh… 😒

As someone who was introduced to the manga back in ‘15-‘16, I find it upsetting that someone felt threatened enough to have the need to change an anime character’s age, like… wtf, bro…? Are you perhaps sleeping better now that you turned him from 29 to 31? Huh? Are you??!!

Dove, it’s clearly; ni-jyuu-KUsai! Yes you, translator! KUsai!!! 😤

#obi akitaru #enn enn no shouboutai #yeah… I’m never using the ‘kyuu’ reading in age…#it’s funnier this way #by the way…#I’m sure my taste in men already shows but…#he really is the ideal man ok?#lifts 30 kg for fun. holds up ceilings. and is an evolved aries…#and did I mention… undercut? droopy eyes? golden heart?#yeah. no joke here. I love him.#I even love him when he’s scared… hhhhhn~ still remember that manga chapter…#let’s see how they animated THAT. hm 😤#mad at hibana for how she treated him in the manga too but that’s for the next episode ig #also; I was supposed to read jjk? muhahaha! yeah- no.#fandom talk #oh… did I mention how the villain is voiced by tsudaken? yeah…#episode rant

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skyguytoast · 1 month ago

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ALMOST HERS, ENTIRELY YOURS: AOTC!ANAKIN X PADMÉ'S YOUNGER SISTER!READER

CHAPTER ONE NEXT

SYNOPSIS: Anakin Skywalker has loved Padmé Amidala since he was ten years old — a crush that grew into something deeper over time. But everything shifts when he meets you, her younger sister.

WARNINGS: None yet. Anidala also here, don't if need a warning for them ;)

WORDS: 3.3k

A/N: hii, babes! sooo this little ideia I had while I was listening to “How Bad Do You Want It” by Lady Gaga. hope you enjoy! comments, reblogs & chaos always welcome — and requests are open as always! dividers by @/enchanthings

'𝑪𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒔𝒉, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒖𝒔𝒉 𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝑰'𝒍𝒍 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒌 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒎𝒚 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆, '𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒆'𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝑰'𝒎 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒊𝒏 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆

With attempts on Senator Amidala’s life becoming alarmingly routine, the Jedi Council had ruled that she remain under Jedi protection, not just for her safety, but to ensure the Separatists couldn’t silence her before she brought her motion before the Senate. Padmé Amidala was well-known across the galaxy for her unwavering principles. A fierce advocate for diplomacy, her voice carried weight and those who feared it knew it could shift the tides of war.

The growing tension with the Separatists had stirred chaos on Coruscant. It wouldn’t be long before that chaos would ripple outward, spreading like wildfire across the galaxy. Any hope for truce by democratic means was dwindling, but if there was one voice still strong enough to challenge the storm, it was hers.

Anakin Skywalker could hardly contain the anticipation of seeing her again.

His feelings for the senator hadn’t faded over the years. If anything, time apart had only made them sharper, more vivid, more impossible to ignore. From the moment he first saw her, he believed she was an angel, and nothing he’d learned about her since had proven him wrong. Whether it was in the holonews, Temple rumors, or stories exchanged in quiet corridors, Padmé Amidala’s compassion and courage only made her seem more unreal. More unreachable.

She wasn’t like the others. Not like the hollow politicians he’d overheard growing up. Padmé cared. She saw the galaxy not in star systems and senate seats, but in people, in those who suffered, those forgotten beneath the shining towers of Coruscant’s upper levels. She fought to pull justice upward from the shadows, to remind the Republic of its duty. And that, Anakin thought, made her the only kind of leader worth following.

“I’m sure Senator Amidala hasn’t forgotten about you,” Obi-Wan’s voice cut through the whirl of thoughts in his padawan’s head, calm and amused.

Anakin blinked, heat rushing to his face. He turned away from the elevator’s glass wall, willing the blush not to show. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Master,” he muttered, voice stiff and unconvincing.

Obi-Wan only shook his head, the corner of his mouth twitching in a knowing smile. He didn’t need the Force to sense how Anakin practically came undone the second the elevator doors slid open. And there she was.

Senator Amidala stood before them, her presence as composed and radiant as ever. She smiled politely as her eyes landed on Obi-Wan.

“Master Kenobi,” she greeted warmly.

But then her gaze fell on Anakin. And it lingered.

Just long enough for his breath to catch and his pulse to roar in his ears.

“Ani,” she said softly, her eyes warming. “How you’ve grown…”

Anakin scratched the back of his neck, cheeks burning. “You haven’t changed at all,” he blurted, then stumbled on his words. “I mean—you’ve just gotten… prettier.”

Smooth, he thought, cursing himself silently.

But Padmé only smiled, gracious and unbothered by his awkwardness, and motioned for them to sit in the sunken living room of her Coruscant apartment. Captain Typho, the ever-watchful head of Naboo’s royal security, stood nearby with his arms crossed, his lone eye scanning the room with practiced precision. It was clear he was already running through contingency plans, ready to bend reality if that’s what it took to protect the senator.

The conversation was brief, or at least, it felt that way to Anakin. If he was honest, he barely registered the words being exchanged. His mind was far too busy spinning up fantasies where he and Senator Amidala were alone together, in a field of wildflowers, on Naboo, on Coruscant, anywhere she would allow him to exist in her orbit.

By the time it was over, he was already standing beside Obi-Wan, halfway into the elevator, still chasing the imaginary sound of her laugh in his head, when his master reminded him of the arrangement: He would be the one escorting Padmé back to Naboo, where she’d spend time with her family while the Separatist crisis was being contained.

And just like that, they were off, the two of them, together. Anakin felt like he was walking on air, grateful beyond measure that the Force had aligned to give him this opportunity. He could barely keep still. To have an excuse to be near her, speak to her, breathe the same air, it was more than he could bear. It was a dream, one he hoped wouldn’t end.

They traveled on a freighter, blending in with the other passengers, keeping a low profile to avoid tipping off anyone who might want to harm her. Even then, in worn robes and modest surroundings, she shone like starlight. The journey was a whirlwind of feelings. Every time she looked at him, spoke to him, asked him something, anything, his heart felt like it might burst from his chest.

Padmé asked him about his life. About his Jedi training. About the man he was becoming.

And gathering a courage he didn’t fully possess, Anakin answered, painting vivid pictures of daring missions and wild adventures. He spoke of triumphs, of narrow escapes, of battles fought alongside Obi-Wan. Of course, with Obi-Wan not there, Anakin took a little liberty with the storytelling. Maybe just slightly exaggerated his own role. Maybe omitted the times things hadn’t gone quite to plan.

But in her eyes, he wanted to be impressive. He wanted to be more than the boy she used to know. He wanted to be the man she could one day love.

When they landed on Naboo, a welcoming party from the Queen’s court was already waiting by the dock. Anakin stepped out first, helping Padmé into the little lake skiff. Her delicate hand lingered against his palm, warm and featherlight, and even after she’d taken her seat to speak with one of the guards, he couldn’t help but glance down at his hand, tracing the ghost of her touch with his thumb and smiling to himself like a fool.

Barely ten minutes later, the boat glided across the still water and docked along the curved wooden pier that wrapped around the Amidala family’s lake house. The soft creak of wood under his boots echoed as Anakin stepped off, stretching out his hand to help the senator once again. But before he could savor the feel of her fingers in his, Padmé was already swept into her parents’ arms, their reunion saturated with long-held emotion and relief.

“Sis!”

An unfamiliar voice called from the doorway of the house, light, melodic, and filled with giddy affection. Anakin’s gaze snapped up, instinctively alert, his stance shifting until he saw you.

Your smile was pure sunlight as you darted forward, lifting your long silk skirt to hurry toward your sister, arms already reaching out for a hug. But as Anakin had instinctively anticipated, your steps faltered, your foot catching on one of the many airy layers of your gown. You teetered forward, wide-eyed, arms flailing. You were a second from tumbling off the dock and into the water.

Until he caught you.

One strong arm wrapped around your back, the other gripping your forearm just before you went under. Your breath hitched, your chest pressed to his, your heart pounding as the world slowed for a moment too long.

You looked up, startled and slightly breathless, straight into the bluest eyes you'd ever seen. The kind of blue that made you forget what you were about to say.

“Oh,” you murmured, blinking. “Wait—are you that little boy Padmé said she met on Tatooine?”

Anakin blinked, like your words had snapped him out of a trance. He carefully set you back on your feet, stepping away as soon as he was sure you were steady.

“I’m a Jedi,” he said quickly, too quickly. “Anakin Skywalker.”

There was a quiet defiance in the way he said it, like he needed to cast off whatever image you’d just conjured. Not a boy from a desert planet. Not a slave. But a warrior. A protector. A Jedi.

Your smile only grew, excitement flaring in your expression. “I’ve never met a Jedi before,” you said, eyes bright with curiosity. “You can, like... move stuff with your mind? Or even better — do you actually carry one of those glowing laser swords?”

“Lightsaber,” Anakin corrected gently, but his lips tugged into a smile, soft and a little cocky, like he couldn’t quite help it. You made him feel seen. Not as a mission or an obligation. But as something... more.

He straightened slightly, his tone slipping into something halfway between duty and pride. “A Jedi’s lightsaber is his life. We’re taught to protect it, to never lose it.”

You leaned in a little closer, not missing the flicker of pride in his voice. “Can I see it?” you asked, like you were asking to see a hidden treasure. “Please? Just for a second?”

There was a sparkle in your eyes, like this was all a grand adventure. You weren't impressed by titles or legacy. You were just curious, joyful, and so effortlessly magnetic it almost made his chest ache.

Anakin hesitated, a quiet grin blooming at the edge of his lips. He knew he shouldn’t. But he also knew he wanted to.

And Force help him — he wanted to impress you.

“Y/N, Padawan Skywalker didn’t come here to play,” Padmé said gently, her tone laced with older-sister patience as she gave you a pointed look.

You pouted but obeyed, not without rolling your eyes like a bratty teenager who'd been caught mid-fun. Anakin noticed, catching the shift in your expression just as you stuck your tongue out at him. He blinked in surprise, clearly unsure whether he should be amused or annoyed. You, of course, took that as a win.

You and Padmé couldn’t have been more different.

Where she was graceful, composed, and precise, a woman who wielded diplomacy the way some wielded weapons, you were all impulse, confidence, and fire. Padmé had always been the one to weigh every word, to calculate every step. You, on the other hand, didn’t stop until you got what you wanted, no matter how messy the path there was. If she was the cool voice of reason, you were the one kicking down the door.

You both carried the same iron courage, the same unwavering hope in people, but yours showed up in sharper, more unpredictable ways. Maybe it was the age gap. Maybe it was her responsibilities as a senator. Or maybe it was simply the weight of her legacy, the fact that you’d spent your life under the shadow of the galaxy’s role model, and your only choice was to walk a different path entirely.

Anakin’s official duty was to protect Padmé, shadow her, guard her, ensure no further attempts on her life succeeded. But the reality was far more boring than it sounded. She spent long hours behind closed doors in tense meetings, writing briefs, and trading coded messages with other senators. And because he wasn’t allowed in the room when classified matters were discussed, he spent much of his time pacing the hallways like a restless hound.

Which meant you quickly became his favorite distraction.

You’d appear with a mischievous smile and a bounce in your step, tossing him a piece of fruit or a cupcake as you passed by, laughing when he fumbled the catch. Other times, you’d simply sit beside him, chattering about anything and everything, sometimes just to make him laugh. It became a rhythm, a quiet, unspoken habit. He found himself waiting for the sound of your footsteps. For that light in your eyes.

Once and only once he let you hold his lightsaber.

He’d meant it as a small gesture, maybe even a show of trust. A way to impress you. But within moments, you’d accidentally activated it, and before either of you could react, you’d sliced your mother’s antique vase clean in two.

You both stared at the destruction in stunned silence, the hum of the blade still vibrating in the air. Then you looked at him, wide-eyed but shameless.

“Oops.”

Anakin groaned, hand over his face. “I’m never hearing the end of this.”

You just grinned, handing the weapon back carefully like it was no big deal. “Relax, Skywalker. I’ll blame it on the wind.”

And in that moment, he knew exactly what kind of trouble you were, and that he liked it far more than he should.

On one of his nightly rounds, Anakin noticed a window left ajar, the curtains swaying lazily in the cool night breeze. He moved toward it cautiously, one hand already brushing the hilt of his lightsaber, prepared for danger, for disruption.

What he found instead was you.

You were perched in the open window, dressed in black pants and a jacket that blended into the night, your silhouette cut from the same cloth as the stars. Your legs dangled freely, swaying just over the edge, as if you were moments away from slipping into the moonlit air and vanishing.

His heart skipped, not from fear, but from the jolt of seeing you there, wild and untamed.

“What are you doing?” he asked, voice low and sharp, his brow furrowed as his hand closed firmly around your arm. The contact was meant to stop you, but his fingers lingered.

You rolled your eyes dramatically. “You don’t know how to have fun, do you, Anakin?” you teased, your smile pulling at the corner of your mouth, sly and impossible to ignore. “I suppose fun isn’t in the Jedi vocabulary.”

He didn’t answer. His jaw was set, his fingers tightening slightly on your arm.

“Y/N, go back to your room,” he said, trying to summon that disciplined tone Obi-Wan always used. “You’re going to get yourself hurt.”

“Then come with me,” you murmured, tilting your head. “Protect me, Jedi.”

There was something in your voice, a melody laced with danger, invitation, and the kind of rebellion Anakin recognized too well in himself. You weren’t just tempting him to leave his post, you were tempting him to abandon the safety of his walls. To choose want over duty.

He glanced at the hallway behind him, at the door to Padmé’s quarters, the room he was assigned to guard. That was where he should be. The Jedi Code echoed in the back of his mind like a warning bell. But the fire in your eyes drowned it out.

“Come on, Anakin,” you whispered, fingers sliding down his wrist and lacing with his. “Almost all of Naboo’s guard is stationed here. No one’s going to get past them tonight.”

His resolve crumbled the moment you pulled him closer.

“Fine,” he said, quiet and breathless.

You grinned, not a sweet smile, but something electric. And without another word, you leapt out of the window, tugging him with you. Anakin barely had time to react before he landed behind you on the back of a speeder bike, the one you have parked discreetly at the edge of the estate.

Your hands took the controls. The engine purred to life, and then you were flying, your hair whipping back into his face, your body warm and solid against his. He wrapped his arms around your waist, to keep balance, he told himself. But he didn’t let go.

You flew like you lived, fast, chaotic, alive. The speeder dove and climbed with reckless abandon, your laughter carried on the wind. More than once, he swore you were about to hit a tree, only for you to swerve with perfect, impossible timing.

The world blurred around you, stars above, lake below and still, all Anakin could think of was the warmth of your body beneath his hands, the rush of danger and desire tangling in his chest. You weren’t just a thrill. You were a spark. A question he’d never dared ask, what would it feel like to be free?

The lake shimmered below as you leaned them toward the water, close enough for him to dip his hand into the cool surface. His fingers broke through the glass-like stillness, trailing through glowing fish that darted away in flashes of silver and blue.

For once, there were no rules. No titles. No expectations. He isn't the choosen one. He was just Anakin.

Just you and him, flying too fast through the night, hearts pounding, hands tangled, somewhere between duty and something far more dangerous.

You smiled softly, glancing over your shoulder at him. That carefree grin on his face suited him, bright, unburdened, almost boyish. Anakin was too young to carry the weight of a galaxy on his shoulders. He shouldn’t have had to bear so much so soon. Tonight, you just wanted to give him something simple, a night with no duties, no burdens, no destiny waiting to devour him.

A moment of distraction, a curve too fast and you nearly clipped a tree. Anakin acted on instinct, grabbing the steering handles and forcing the speeder into a sharp turn. The vehicle skidded, tore through a field of wildflowers, and finally came to a halt in a shower of petals and torn grass. The two of you tumbled off the bench, landing in the tangled bloom of crushed blossoms and laughter.

You braced for a lecture. You’d nearly killed them both. He had every right to scold you, but instead, he laughed.

Anakin tipped his head back and let go, laughing so hard he clutched his stomach, his whole body shaking with it. And that was it, you cracked too, letting the tension dissolve into giggles and gasps for breath, tears of joy slipping down your cheeks as you collapsed into the flowers beside him.

“Thank you,” Anakin murmured when the laughter faded into silence. His palm found your back, warm and grounding as he pulled you closer. Your head came to rest on his chest, rising and falling with each quiet breath. “I needed that.”

You smiled softly, tracing the seams of his Jedi uniform with idle fingers. “A near-death experience?”

He chuckled. “Yeah… that too.”

His eyes drifted up to the sky endless and star-drenched. So different from Tatooine. On Naboo, the air wasn’t thick with fear or survival. Here, everything felt softer. Lighter. Free.

“I think,” he said slowly, “I needed to be happy… without feeling guilty about it.”

You looked up at him, gaze gentle, then reached for his hand. Your fingers found his and squeezed, grounding him again.

“Good,” you whispered, a grin tugging at your lips. “cause I don’t plan on letting you go until we’ve squeezed every bit of fun Naboo has to offer.”

“Oh?” he teased, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, his fingers grazing your skin just long enough to make your breath catch. The moonlight painted your features like something from a dream, soft, glowing, unreal. “And I don’t get a choice?”

You shook your head, playful but sincere. “You always have a choice, Anakin. You just have to remember that it’s yours to make.”

Your eyes turned skyward again, catching the shimmer of a shooting star as it cut through the dark. “Quick, quick, make a wish.”

He watched you close your eyes, the smallest smile curving your lips as you whispered your hope to the stars. You were radiant like this, not just beautiful, but whole, alive in a way that seemed untouched by everything that weighed on him.

He closed his eyes too.

He didn’t believe in those myths, in childish stories. But if a wish could keep you close, if it could carve out more nights like this, where he wasn’t a Jedi, or a soldier, or a ticking time bomb, then he would wish harder than he ever had.

Because this? This soft happiness? He hadn’t known how badly he needed it. And now that he had… he wasn’t sure he could live without it.

You reminded him that he had choices. That he was still human, still his own. That maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to walk the path that others carved for him.

He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. But under that star-filled sky, your hand still wrapped in his, he decided he was ready to find out.

TAGLIST: @ihearthayden @anakinstwinklebunny @sometimescharlolette @awhhayden @dessxoxsworld @speaknow-sw @freudsweetlamb @devilslittlehelper

#anakin skywalker #anakin x you #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #hayden christensen fanfiction #star wars #aotc anakin #aotcanakin x you #aotc!anakin x reader #anidala #sw prequels

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dumbbbg · 2 months ago

Text

FOR YOU 4

Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Padawan!reader (Later will turn into Unburnt Vader x rebel! reader)

Full series

Previous chapter - 3

Next Chapter - 5 (Not published yet)

Warnings (For the whole series): noncon, dubcon, dom/sub dynamics (basically filth)

Warnings (for this chapter): Noncon touching + kissing. Anakin being scary. Anakin being possessive. Humiliation. Anakin also being kinda...nice? Calm?

. . .

For the millionth time, you couldn't believe you were in this position. You were placed on Anakin's lap, his one arm wrapped around your waist, his chin brushing the top of your head as he flew the ship. His large hand was resting on your waist, rubbing it up and down so casually like he was doing something he always did, something very ordinary.

Soon, the ship was in hyperspace, and Anakin relaxed on his seat, pulling you till you were forced to lay on his chest. You kept your eyes fixed on the beautiful hyperspace, trying to ignore the monster holding you captive.

"Little one," he murmured. "You look beautiful with the light of stars on your face." His mechanical hand cupped your face and pulled at it till you were forced to meet his eyes. His eyes were only slightly yellow, somehow gentle for the first time. His lips pressed against your forehead. "My love." His lips brushed your cheek gently.

He did that for a while. You held your breath. His lips brushed all over his face, kissing as if worshipping. For a few moments, he was the soft Anakin you sometimes watched from afar. When he was normal.

"We should be there in a few hours," he said. "You should get some sleep." He moved you till you were lying sideways on his lap, your head resting on his chest.

"I-I can go to the co-pilot seat-"

"No." Yellow flickered in his eyes. "Sit still."

You did.

Slowly, his steady breathing and the slight noise of the ship lulled you to sleep. The last thing you vaguely remembered was Anakin pressed his lips against you in a brief kiss, zooming through the stars.

. . .

"W-what are we doing on...Alderaan, master?"

He helped you down the ship, basically carrying you in his arms. "Some business with Senator Organa. Come on."

You both walked inside and were warmly welcomed. You smiled shyly, answering the questions that the senator and others asked during dinner, and before you knew it, you were in a guestroom, wondering what business Anakin had with the senator. But, no matter how curious you were, you would never ask.

You had to find a way to get out of being his apprentice. You didn't know how that could happen. He had even taken your lightsaber and your ass was bruised because of him. He had taken full control of your life in mere weeks.

Telling Obi-Wan always seemed like a good idea, but at the same time, Anakin was close to him. What if he didn't listen? What if you were just labelled as a liar by the whole Jedi order? People worshipped Anakin while they tolerated you. You might be beautiful but strength with the Force is power in the Jedi Order.

The door opened.

Your eyes fell upon Anakin as he entered and casually closed the door. "Why aren't you sleeping?"

"I-I couldn't, master. It's a new place."

He took off his robe, leaving himself in his trousers. He set his lightsaber down beside his neatly folded robe and walked towards you with unhurried, intimidating steps. You gulped at the showcase of strength his body was, his dark mechanical hand a contrast to his skin. His abs were easily defined, and a few scars littered his body. He was a general who was fighting in the Cole Wars; of course he was built to the bone.

It made you terrified. It made you nervous. In no aspect whatsoever could you ever overpower him. Force. Physical strength.

"A-are you going to sleep here?"

"Yes."

He got into the bed, pulling you to his side easily, his arm curled under your waist, dragging you to his chest.

"I-I can do to the other room if you l-like this one better-"

He chuckled. "I like my little Padawan sleeping on me." His large hand travelled down and grabbed your ass. You winced. Your ass was still tender from the punishment he had given you.

He didn't react, he just petted your ass, keeping his hand there. Slowly, he fell asleep while you lay tensed in his arms, biting a hole through your bottom lip in anxiety.

Only when the morning came did your exhausted eyes finally drop into a troubled sleep filled with flashing yellow eyes, dark smirks and, for some reason, a muscular, giant hand holding a red lightsaber.

. . .

Anakin was a shadow you could not shake. If he wasn't following you, R2D2 was. The little white and blue droid followed you everywhere, and sometimes both of them were there, watching over you.

The trip to Alderaan proved to be some preparation for a humanitarian mission the Jedi were to be given, to go around some Separatist blockade to apply food to a small planet. The mission was for your master and Master Kenobi. You would just tag along.

Soon, the plans were finalised, and before long, you and Anakin were back in his ship, with your sitting on his lap, and back in hyperspace. Now, he was tense. The yellow of his eyes was obvious, and now you knew enough to know that he was about to do something brutal.

"Are you tired?" Maker, even his voice had deepened. It rumbled through your body, making it tremble in fear.

"No, master-"

His giant hands landed on your thighs, and before you knew it, he had spread your legs, pulled your robes open, and somehow immobilized them in a way that you could only move your knees, not your feet.

"W-wait- what are you doing-"

"Spread."

"What-"

"Spread."

You spread your knees, trembling like a leaf. His large hands ripped your trousers and pulled your tunic up, exposing just your simple panties covering you.

"Do you know-" he began, his rough, large hands resting on your soft inner thighs, rubbing up and down, "- how many men were looking at you, little one? How many of them couldn't fucking tear their eyes away from my padawan? They wanted to fuck you. They wanted to bend you over and use all your holes." You whimpered at the words, shaking your head, small hands trembling with the effort to not grab his hands and try to tug them away.

"W-wait- they weren't- t-they-"

"I could feel it," he said. "The Force tells me everything, little one. Their desire, your fear."

His finger brushed your pussy, and you flinched at the touch. His lips pressed against your ear, and he tugged a finger inside your panties, touching your bare hole.

"So small," he muttered. "Let's stretch this cunt out, yes?"

. . .

Lmk what you think of the story so far <3

#anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin smut #anakin x reader #darth vader #darth vader smut #star wars anakin #unburnt vader #yandere smut #star wars #yandere #tw noncon #dubc0n

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